Everybody Everybody
by Her Sweetness
Summary: AU.When Marik Ishtar's love for Ryou turns obsessive, he takes the boy captive. The hours pass and Marik becomes more aggressive. As Bakura searches for his brother, Ryou realizes all the unsaid things in their relationship. Why did they hurt each other?
1. Marik Ishtar

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: Hello. Back again with another angst story. People who liked AFSR will love this, I think. So please read and drop me a review because I'm not continuing if no one likes it. What would be the point?

* * *

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter One

A name is a very important thing. But Marik Ishtar did not think so. And maybe that's because Marik Ishtar's name was mostly forgotten about, not a name but a word. A word that was never used and meant very little to anyone, even himself. He never called himself by his name, never even addressed himself. And in that aspect, maybe he was like all the other kids in the class. They never addressed him either. Not even the teacher, who called roll everyday right after the morning announcements.

She would call every other name but 'Marik Ishtar'. It was noticeable to him the first few weeks of school, it stood out because his last name is right in the middle of the alphabet. And after a few days, he listened, sitting at his desk near the back of the classroom, he listened to the words and the names she called as if listening to the radio after a while. Like music. Like a song, flowing throughout the classroom. But everyday, as he thought that maybe she would not skip him that day, she ran right by his name.

Melanie Gadwall.

Tad Harrington.

This is it, he thought, my name is next. She cannot skip me today, everyone will hear and someone will say, 'Ms. Sinclair, you skipped Marik Ishtar.'

Walter Javin.

Everyday after that day, Marik Ishtar ceased to exist in the classroom. Ms. Sinclair did not call his name to answer questions, to read aloud to the class or even for detention, for punishment. During group projects, everybody pushed their desks together and laughter and gossip surrounded him but he was not included. He was not even gossiped about. No one knew he was back there, sitting and somewhat wanting for someone to say something to him.

After those days, he wondered if he scarred people away. He wondered if there was something wrong with his appearance. That, he considered, could be the problem. High school focused on looks and faces and if there was a problem with his, that would be the answer, that would be why no one sat with him at lunch or asked him to join the swim or soccer teams that Domino High was so famous for. He had skipped a whole day of school to stay home and examine himself in the mirror, check every angle of his face and hair and body. And it baffled him. He did not think he looked bad. He wanted to almost brag, he thought his looked handsome. Tanned skin and hazy purple eyes, blonde, unruly hair. Wasn't he handsome?

He concluded that his appearance could not be the problem. And for Marik Ishtar, that was even worse than concluding that he was ugly. At least if he was distasteful to the eye, he would've had a problem that he could concentrate on solving. But all he had now was the unknown and that question still remained, Why does nobody acknowledge me?

There are days when the lack of friends or even acquaintances does not bother him. Days right before a final exam or days when he is depressed for other reasons and is glad that no one will talk to him, bother him. But those days are fleeting and in his junior year of High school, he is amazed and appalled that he has not had one friend since his freshman year. He admits that he has not tried very hard. Had he expected someone to just come up and start conversation? He had told himself long ago that he would have to make himself known. But these attempts were always blocked by his shyness.

Yes, Marik Ishtar was shy. Though he did not look it — having a somewhat mischievous, verging on demonic appearance — he hated the idea of beginning conversation with a perfect stranger and avoided it. Still, he was lonely.

An idea ran across his mind one day as he sat in that crowded lunchroom, in the corner and barely picking at his food. He was not popular in the least but then, there were others in the school who were also disliked by the rest of the student body. And they dealt with it. They talked to teachers, became teacher pets and did well in school and went to college. Though Marik knew he did not have money for college or the brains to make good grades, he tried to be gentle and sweet to the teachers but it never worked. They never even knew his name.

"Ms. Sinclair," He said to her, once the students in the class had left for the day. To him, his voice sounded high-pitched because he was nervous but in reality it was deep, throaty, his past years of growth now taking affect on his voice. "I was wondering what courses you recommend for college…"

She raised an eyebrow at him, lowering her owl-like glasses to the tip of her nose and peering out, "College?"

"Well, it's not that far off and—"

"A career path, is that what this is about?" She said, not in question form but in statement as if she were dismissing him. She turned back to her desk, her computer and began to type, "You need to see your guidance counselor. Who's homeroom are you in?"

Shocked, he didn't say anything. He looked at her as if she had just struck him in the face, hard. She waited, her fingers paused on the keys, and turned back to him, repeating, "Your homeroom teacher. Who is it?"

Still he stared and she wore more of an annoyed look. "What's your _name_?"

Marik Ishtar, he wanted to call out but found it hard to even breath, Marik Ishtar. My name is Marik Ishtar and I am a junior, I am in your homeroom, Ms. Sinclair. But he didn't say anything and instead turned around and calmly walked out of the room, leaving his notebooks and school bag behind. Shortly after that day, he paid no attention to school or his studies. Yes, he went everyday and got out and walked home, like clockwork, but they were just motions and he did not mean any of them. They just happened.

So days went by and not once was his name called. He was half expecting — just a little bit of hope left — that Ms. Sinclair would recognize him one morning and apologize but, of course, that never happened and never would. And maybe that was okay with him. But deep inside he still wanted some recognition, someone to turn to him and say with a smile, Want to hang out, after school?

But that would never happen, either. Marik Ishtar faded into the background of the school, he might as well have been a chair, nothing more than part of the scenery. And as part of the scenery, he later found out, he could watch people — the important people, the ones with friends — without receiving glares or obscene hand gestures. He did not watch them with lustful or psychotic eyes, anyway, just pure curiosity. He liked it, too. He liked going about his day and watching out of the window as the world went by and watching the students as they passed notes in the classroom, behind Ms. Sinclair's back.

There was one person, though, that he enjoyed watching most of all. The boy who sat in front of him. Of course, sitting in back of him all the time, he wondered how he knew it _was_ in fact a boy. Everything about this person was utterly feminine. Long, silver hair settling right below his shoulder blades, and big brown eyes that he caught a glimpse of when the boy turned to someone across the room and flashed a smile. That was Marik Ishtar's favorite. When that boy acknowledged someone else, spoke or smiled or even laughed, he felt good for some reason.

Maybe it was the pretending.

Yes, it was probably the pretending that he did when the boy was interacting with someone else. He imagined that it was he who the boy was talking or smiling to. He imagined that maybe someday, that boy who had always sat in front of him, would look back at him and smile and that smile would be for him and him alone. And maybe, just maybe, he would smile back and they would become friends. He liked that idea.

But the boy who sat in front of him already had friends. More than enough friends. Marik sometimes tried to count how many people throughout class would contact the boy one way or another. People would whisper, pass notes — these notes were never passed through Marik of course — or do something to grab his attention. It made Marik feel good to know that he was not the only one craving a gesture from this boy. These notes that were passed to him, Marik always enjoyed because even though he was not popular or apart of any clique, he would get caught up on all the latest gossip of Domino High.

He would bend and twist just a little bit to see over that boy's shoulder and watch as he unfolded the paper with his delicate hands, revealing to him all the secrets of the world he knew nothing about. That made him laugh. He was not apart of that world and yet he knew it inside-out. And in that aspect, he felt that boy brought him closer to this unknown world.

Marik would never forget the day he learned this angelic messenger's name. His _name_.

The bell rung and everyone happily jumped from their seats, some rushing to the door but some lingering in the classroom and some others coming to pick up the boy who sat in front of him. A few teenagers crowded around him and as they began to walk away, a girl giggled, asking loudly, "So Ryou, are you going to come to my swim meet tonight? Remember, you didn't come last time."

"I know, I know. But I can't tonight."

And during roll call the next Monday, Marik stopped listening like it was radio and closed his eyes, concentrating, trying to hear an exact breath, a certain name.

Felicia Applegate.

Ryou Bakura.

He lifted his head, opening his large, purple eyes and watched as the boy flippantly lifted his hand and a rather bored word came from his lips, "Here,"

Marik Ishtar was then overcome with depression yet again. That aching loneliness that he had socked away had come back, tenfold. It was worse this time. Not only was he not apart of that wonderful, bouncy, teenage world they called High school but he was now not apart of Ryou Bakura's life. In those small seconds, he had gone from anxious and somewhat excited to beyond despair. He wished then, more than ever, that Ryou Bakura would turn around and ask that funny little question that he knew would never be asked.

Want to hang out, after school?

Marik Ishtar?

But no, those words would not be spoken, not to him. He hoped that there was another Marik Ishtar out there who was happy and full of life and who had a Ryou Bakura to be with and maybe even hold. What would it be like to hold Ryou Bakura? To touch him? But, quickly, he shook those thoughts away. There were too many things he could not have already. He did not want to think of that other thing as well.

The bell rung and they all went out, and Marik went shuffling out, last, as usual. He gave a fleeting glance to Ms. Sinclair, sitting at her desk, hands flying over the keyboard and glasses poised at the tip of her nose. She did not look back and Marik left, feeling more than a little defeated. He walked out into the busy hallway, not watching the other students as he usually did, now not interested in their world, in their way of life. What did it matter now?

The wind was nearly knocked out of him and suddenly his books dropped to the floor. He looked down and saw Ryou Bakura, rubbing his head and muttering delicate curses. Marik began to panic, but not physically, mentally. His mind raced and questions ran through it. Had he hit him? Ran into him without even knowing it? Before he scolded himself for his folly, he was interrupted by that same voice that had earlier said, Here. He looked down again and Ryou Bakura was holding out his grammar textbook to him.

"Sorry, Marik. I can be a real klutz sometimes," He grinned softly and Marik took the book almost like a zombie. Ryou Bakura began to walk off and Marik stood there as the hallways emptied and the tardy bell rung.

Sorry, Marik.

_Marik_.

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To be continued. 


	2. Ryou Bakura

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: Thank you for the great responses, everyone! I will try not to disappoint!

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— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Two

Ryou Bakura sighed, looking at the paper he was just handed back. Another F to add to his growing collection. He looked up, scanning the room and his fellow classmate's papers, able to see the tests over their shoulders thanks to his seat. This test must've been easier than he had previously thought because they all had relatively high grades. And here he sat, starring at what was probably the lowest grade in the class. He turned it over so that no one would be able to see his pathetic score.

From anyone else's point of view, it would look like he did not care about his grade, that it made no difference to him whether he made a F or an A in this class, on this test. That was probably because he was so flippant in the way that he had turned it over, in the way that he had received and looked at it. But, of course, Ryou Bakura had always had that air about him, that way of seeming so care free and laid back. He knew this strange affect he had on people, the way they all watched him with a curious and sometimes admirable twinkle in their eye.

Most of the time, he used this to his advantage. Which was why this F was a bit of a shock for those in his class lucky enough to steal a glance at his paper. Surprisingly, his charm, his way of intriguing people, worked on people of all ages. It went from when he was a young boy and people in the grocery store would stop his mother, 'What a sweet young boy you have there, Mrs. Bakura,' is what they would say. Then when he became older, graduating to middle school and then High school, he would get left behind in classes, not pay attention and get Fs — such as the one he was currently hiding — on tests. One day he discovered that his charm would work on teachers.

The female teachers were always the first to succumb. All he had to do was flash his smile. It was that easy. Grades gradually got higher and all he had to do was smile and joke around, wear tight clothing. But soon after, as he moved up to the ninth grade and discovered his own deepest desires, he focused more on his male teachers, sitting on their desks after class in the dusk of the early evening. It started out with just asking for tutoring after school, an hour, maybe two. With the older ones, he would act sweet and gentle, would touch their shoulder as they bent over him, showing him an equation's formula or some such.

As for the younger ones, they were harder to satisfy without Ryou Bakura giving up more than he was receiving. He smiled rather fondly out the window next to his desk now as he thought back to his freshman year at the end of the semester and remembered how badly he needed to get a passing grade on his Chemistry final. He had snuck back into the classroom during lunch when the other students went down to the cafeteria and closed the classroom door softly behind himself as he ventured forward, hoping that his jeans were tight enough for the man sitting at his desk in a white lab coat.

"Mr. Glenwood," He'd whispered softly in the heat of the afternoon. In had been July and the school had yet to turn on the air conditioner. The room was stifling and he was regretting wearing those denim jeans.

The man looked up, sparkling blue eyes catching the light and setting the room ablaze. Ryou Bakura had seen those eyes starring at him in the middle of a lecture and sometimes Mr. Glenwood would stop talking altogether, both of them caught in that gaze. It was then that Ryou Bakura knew he would be getting an A on his final without too much compromise. His look was questioning enough but he spoke, "Yes, Mr. Bakura? Do you need something?"

He held up his Chemistry notebook, "Actually, yes. I was wondering about that problem you were showing us at the beginning of class. The equation? I don't think I fully understand."

Mr. Glenwood smiled and rose from his chair, coming over only too pleased to help this young boy. Ryou seated himself at the nearest desk and opened the notebook to the correct page, pointing to a series of abbreviations and numbers as his professor stood behind him and put on hand on the desk, hunching over and immediately explaining the entire thing. Ryou paid no attention to his words and planned his next move. He chuckled at the thought. Like it even needed planning.

It was only another thirty seconds before Mr. Glenwood took a breath and looked at his pupil. "Well, did any of that make sense?"

Ryou smiled lazily, leaning his head back and letting it rest on the teacher's hip. The man took in a quick gasp and moved to back away but Ryou latched onto his hand, Mr. Glenwood's sun-kissed skin beautiful against his own milky white flesh. He stroked his larger fingers tenderly and looked up at him. Ryou could almost feel his teacher's pulse quicken.

"Mr. Bakura—"

"It's hot in here," Ryou interrupted, still smiling.

He smirked, trying to gain back all the composure that this boy was making him lose. "Well, I'm not surprised. You're wearing that sweater."

Ryou Bakura was not affected by this comment. He matched that smirk with his own, reaching his hand higher up that well-toned arm, "Would you like me to take it off, then?"

There was almost a full moment of silence as they starred into each other's eyes, a cool blue meeting a melting brown. A second there, Ryou thought he was losing his teacher and his shot at an A for the final but all doubt was eliminated when Mr. Glenwood bent down and leaned into the boy's face, ready for whatever would happen. Just before their lips met, Ryou lifted his finger to the teacher's lips, a cunning smirk dominating his features that said playfully, I got you now.

The teacher put his arm around the boy's frail shoulders, "What do you want?"

"Mmm. What does every student want?"

The deal was sealed with a kiss.

-

Ryou Bakura remembered that day and that year all too well. He got that A and he had earned it. Of course he had not gone all the way with Mr. Glenwood, he never went all the way. That was his one rule. He would never do such a degrading thing with a teacher, with anyone. He promised himself that a long time ago, so long ago, in fact, that he did not remember exactly when the promise was made. All he knew was that it was a promise he would never betray. Not that he didn't want someone special but he considered himself to be wonderful — however self-centered that may sound — and he wanted someone just as good.

He smirked, looking across the classroom to an empty desk that stood lonely by the exit door. His big brother was sick today. Not sick really, but sick of school. Ryou really preferred for his big brother not to skip school for no reason. He liked having him here with him, not only to be with but for protection's sake as well. There were people that his charm did not work on and when that happened, his big brother was there to back him up. It amazed him how similar they were — of course, they were identical twins. Him being born two minutes before Ryou gave him the place of 'big brother' — their looks, even though his brother was two inches taller and his features were more defined, muscles more toned and hair having more of a spike to it.

'Bakura' was what his big brother liked to be called, having a certain fondness for their last name. Ryou did not question him on this and called him what he wished but in the stillness of the night or when they were alone in a corridor, even for a brief moment, he would shorten the name to a playful pet name that only he was aloud to use. His big brother was wonderful as well, just as wonderful as he was and it was not long until he saw it, though, at first, it was not his choice to see it.

Ryou did not like bringing up memories from the past too often. They hurt too much; hurt in places he did not know that he had until he remembered them. That first time his brother had made him see how wonderful he was, that maybe he was that wonderful person made just for Ryou.

When they were still just kids, only fourteen years old, their family had taken a trip during the summer break to their summer home by the coast. They did that every year, but this year had been different than all the rest and Ryou felt it that night as he sat in his and Bakura's room that they shared in the spacious cabin.

The door to the bathroom opened suddenly and Ryou tilted his head, glancing back to see Bakura in a lone white towel wrapped securely around his waist, slipping some as he walked out, shutting the door behind him. Ryou looked at him as he stood there at the foot of the bed, looking at his younger brother expectantly. Ryou shook his head, "Alright, alright. I'll go in as soon as I'm done with this chapter," He said, still immersed in his novel.

Bakura raised an eyebrow and came around the side of the bed, sitting down beside him, "Ry," Using his own sweet nickname for his brother, "You don't have to pretend anymore, you know. It's summer. There's no school and mom and dad wouldn't care."

"Wouldn't care about what?" He raised his own eyebrow, matching his brother's, this making them look like mirror images.

"Don't play with me, Ry. I know you, know how you got such a good grade on those last few tests."

Ignore him, "I don't know what you mean, I studied."

He laid down beside the boy now, leaning his head on his shoulder and wetting him in the process, his body still damp from the shower. "Studied what? Certainly not History. I saw you, what you and Mr. Barnes were doing. You little whore," He smirked now, voice teasing, "You let him kiss you, let him touch you. You were making bedroom eyes at him."

Ryou kept his calm, "So,"

There was a small second when his brother did not say anything, only changed his position by coming in front of him and gently taking the book away, crouching down and leveling his brown eyes with his younger brother's. "So. Make those eyes at me."

"What?" He was not taking him seriously.

"You heard me, Ry. We're brothers, aren't we? I should be able to be intimate with you, more so than some teacher. So, c'mon. What are we waiting for?" He grinned now, toothy and all white as he took his brother's frail wrists in his grip and turned him on his back without much struggle even though he was trying to break free.

"'Kura," — ah, that nickname — "what do you think you're doing?"

"I want to love you like that teacher did."

"We didn't—"

"Doesn't matter, Ry. I'm your brother and what's yours is mine. You know that."

Ryou cringed now thinking back on the events of that night. They were both virgins and no matter how gentle Bakura tried to be, the whole thing was one stumble after another and it hurt Ryou something awful. But that did not matter now. Because after the first month or so of that — Bakura coming in and pinning him down, him protesting in return — Ryou began to relax and appreciate it more, appreciate his brother more. It was safe to say that he had fallen in love with his brother a long time ago, but that summer brought up the physical side of himself, a side he would only continue to share with Bakura.

Now, as if hearing a shout from a far off distance, Ryou Bakura heard his teacher's voice, something along the lines of, "Page 182 in your textbook…"

He rolled his eyes and reached down to his school bag, fishing around in it. After a moment of feeling nothing there, he opened it fully and noted that there was nothing inside. He must've dropped his text book on his way…

"Oh," He said aloud, not meaning to but doing it anyway and drawing a few people's questioning glances his way. He smiled and waved away their concern and they automatically went back to their task more elated than when they had left it. After all, Ryou Bakura just smiled and waved.

Turning back to his own thoughts now, he remembered where his book must've been. In the hallway, by Ms. Sinclair's room. That was when he bumped into Marik, Marik Ishtar he thought his name was. What a funny person. Never spoke, never made eye contact and Ryou was curious why he never had any friends. Surely a good looking boy like himself could have dozens of potential dates, a number maybe even rivaling his own. But he did feel bad for poor Marik Ishtar. He was rarely spoken to and once, he thought it was a month ago, he had seen the teen confront Ms. Sinclair about colleges. She didn't even know his name.

Marik had walked out of there so quickly that he probably had not seen Ryou. That didn't matter though, Ryou was only going in to finalize his midterm grade. And in homeroom, he enjoyed the feeling of Marik Ishtar behind him, craning his neck and trying to be discreet about the notes he wanted a peek at. Most of the time, Ryou would lean back and let Marik have the run of his notes, reading them and he knew Marik Ishtar knew none of the people any of the letters concern.

He was innocent of everything, so why not let that silly thing have his fun?

Ryou Bakura decided that he would have to get to know this boy better. Not only did he feel sorry for him and wanted to be helpful in the department of friends, but simply because he was interested in him. Sometimes he would see him in the cafeteria, sitting in that lonesome corner by himself, but he never looked sorrowful or pained my his lack of companions, he just existed as if he were the only one on the planet.

The bell rung and Ryou went through the rest of the day thinking of how he could approach this boy, Marik Ishtar, without seeming to have planned it.

-

A pale face leant over him as he slept. A gentle voice and a smile, two perfect pink lips forming the words:

"I'm in love with you, Ishtar."

In the night as everyone in his apartment complex slept, Marik Ishtar woke with a start, purple eyes wide, sweat running down his body and soaking the sheets in it. He threw the covers off himself and turned to the other side, feet dangling just above the hard wood floor. He sighed, calming himself from what must've been a dream.

After a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes and smiled. He could still see Ryou Bakura's face, heard his angelic voice and he was talking to _him_. Not the pretending, but he was in fact saying his name and meaning it. _I'm in love with you_. His smile grew broader as he got off the bed, walking down the darkened, narrow hallway and into the bathroom, on the way repeating the name he had been sense he arrived home.

Ryou Bakura.

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To be continued. 


	3. The Ties That Bind

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: Hey, guys. - -'' So, listen, I'm pretty new to these limes and there will be a few throughout this fic. I'll try to get better so if it's not as good as some other people's please remember I'm still learning.

* * *

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Three

Walking down those lonely, fog-covered streets at six in the morning, Marik Ishtar was happy. In every sense of the word and it's synonyms, elated, delighted, blissful. As he walked by the bare, naked trees, their leaves long since dead and scattered in the gutters, his eyes shone through the fog, lavender headlights, shining a way through, reflecting how light his soul was then. In his school bag, thrown carelessly over his shoulder, he had placed his books inside, like every other day, but today he carried something in his arms.

Since changing classes the day before, when he had bumped into that wonderful thing, Ryou Bakura, he had obtained something that he had grown quite fond of. A binder. A blue binder, random stickers strewn across it and inside, a textbook and a few loose sheets of paper, scribbled and doodled on by Ryou Bakura. He recognized the delicate and somewhat rushed handwriting from the notes that he saw Ryou writing back to others. Marik stayed up the night before, reading over what he had written there, even giggled at the obscure doodles on the tops of the papers.

It was as if he was finally let into Ryou Bakura's world, just a little bit. And as much as he detested the idea of having to give the binder back to the boy, he knew he had to. This would be his reason, his reason to finally speak to beautiful, Ryou Bakura. He would miss his binder and wonder what happened to it and, out of the blue, Marik would come up and gallantly return it and he would say his name, something that he'd only been able to say aloud in his own home.

You dropped your binder.

Ryou Bakura.

The late November chill was setting in around the town and caused the dense fog that Marik was forced to walk in, due to his missing the bus. But he didn't mind, he had planned on missing the bus, he had to take extra steps that morning to ready himself to meet this boy face-to-face. For as long as he could remember, he'd only seen Ryou Bakura from the back and he doubted that during their sudden clash the day before, Ryou had actually taken a good look at him. He was thankful for that. He hadn't looked his best that day, he'd admit, but today he decided to iron his clothes before throwing them on his body and shuffling into the school building.

As Marik Ishtar continued down the misty streets, looking both ways and checking for headlights of cars before entering the street. As dense as the haze was, he could make out others his own age, some younger, some older, all heading in the same direction. But, of course, there were noticeable differences between Marik Ishtar and his peers. They traveled in pairs, sometimes groups of threes or fours. Their aura was carefree and pure and they had friends.

He sighed. Friends. Something he did not have but wished that he might someday be blessed with. He had read somewhere that one did not need friends, that human beings were efficient on their own and would be delayed with such things. Marik's mind instantly raced to Ryou Bakura and how he smiled at everyone and how nice he seemed to be. If Ryou Bakura was his companion, was his only friend, he knew he would not mind being delayed. If there was company, then why hurry?

Today will be a good day, he told himself, nodding as he got closer to the school building and the huddling mass of teenagers at the gates. He clutched the binder closer to his chest, trying to find some comfort in it.

-

_Will not be coming to school today. Have reached a new area in Halo 2, I'm close to beating it. Will be waiting for a reward when you get home, fine ass._

That was all that was written on the crumpled piece of paper that Ryou Bakura found in his pocket. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the last sentence. His big brother was coarse and crude when he wanted to be. Unfortunately that was most of the time, especially when they were around anyone but themselves. With friends or their parents, and even sometimes with Ryou, Bakura was rather vulgar while _he_ was always feigning sweetness to everyone.

Though, Ryou supposed that was what his friends meant when they said they complimented each other so well, like two sides of a coin. He stuffed the note back into his pocket, trying to hide that smile that came to his lips whenever he thought of Bakura. Despite his skipping school and sometimes crude remarks and even gestures when they past each other in the hallway, Ryou was glad his brother was around. He was someone to talk to and he did listen whenever Ryou was serious.

Ryou closed his locker and continued on his way down the hall, greeting and waving at everyone who said, "Good morning," or something similar. He thought back to just the night before when he was trying to get some time alone. It seemed that lately the only place he could get away from his parents or the phone that constantly rang off the hook, always for him, was the bathroom, taking a long bath, sometimes so long that his fingers would start to prune and the water would get cold. Didn't matter, though, salvation comes in all forms, Ryou soon found out.

As the sun set, the calls started; his friends and some people he didn't know very well, calling to see if he was free tonight, if he wanted to see a movie. He nearly ran into the linoleum-covered room to get away from that horrid sound, the constant ringing of the phone in his ears, still sounding throughout the house. He'd shut the door behind himself and discarded his clothes even before he ran the bathwater, running his hand down and up the warm water as the tub filled.

It almost overflowed as he lost himself in the sight of the water and he quickly came back to here and now, the tub overflowing, his hand in the hot water and the phone ringing off in the distance. He hated that sound.

Ryou climbed in, not bothering to test it with his foot as he usually did, no time for that, had to get away from that sound, these terrible noises. He lay almost entirely submerged in the water, his nose and up was all that was exposed, save for his hands gripping the rim of the tub. He counted the rings as they continued, no one touching the phone, everyone in the house knowing that those persistent calls were for Ryou and him alone.

He sighed when they stopped five minutes later and let his body relax, sliding further into the water. The room was quiet, his steady breathing filling it with content rhythm. The door opened suddenly and closed just as quickly, Ryou's own form coming in and stationing itself at the sink, washing it's hands.

Ryou turned his head, his mouth still submerged, "Can't you knock?"

"Why should I?" His mirror image asked, the answer to the previous question. When he heard nothing from his younger brother, he turned his head from the sink, his deep brown eyes starring at the delicate, pale body in the water. Bakura turned his body, fully from the counter and walked the six foot distance to the tub, kneeling down and placing a hand under Ryou's chin, lifting it out of the water. He smirked, "The phone stopped ringing. You don't have to hide in here anymore."

"I'm not hiding," Ryou countered, feebly, now not in the mood to argue. He sighed, letting his head rest in Bakura's palm as the older of the two cupped his younger brother's cheek, bringing him closer. He breathed in the strawberry scent of Ryou's hair, closing his eyes and trailing his lips along the dainty jaw line until he reached the boy's lips. Ryou responded to the kiss immediately, opening his mouth to his big brother's eager tongue. Bakura slipped his other arm down into the water, his sleeve wetting, and feeling down the boy's sleek back, lingering at his hips and nudging him up, his chest now out of the water. The phone started ringing again and Ryou turned away quickly as if nothing happened though his breathing was a bit ragged.

"I hate this…" He muttered, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms securely around himself.

Standing up and slipping his shirt over his head, Bakura smirked and began to unbutton his jeans. He threw them on the floor. "If you hate it so much, then don't acknowledge it, Ry. It's your own fault for being this vulnerable."

Ryou didn't say anything as he felt his brother's body next to his in the warm water and leaned over, resting his head on the teen's chest, trailing his hand up to Bakura's shoulder. He sniffled, trying to prevent his tears from falling. He shook his head then, smiling, forcing the tears away. "Maybe Marik Ishtar is the one calling me…"

"Who?" Bakura tilted his head, busying himself by stroking his brother's cheek, leaning in and kissing it.

Ryou chuckled, "Marik Ishtar. This boy at school, he's… 'K-Kura…" He moaned as Bakura's hand tweaked his left nipple and slid lower as he moved, pushing Ryou down and finally emerging on top of him, attacking his brother's lips with his own. Ryou managed to break away quick enough to ask, "What are you doing?"

"We're going to drown out the phone."

-

Ryou looked up, coming to the door of his fifth period class. The hallway was nearly empty, with fifteen minutes until homeroom begun, most of the other students were out in the courtyard. He knocked lightly and didn't wait for an answer, opening the door and quickly shutting it behind himself.

The classroom was silent inside, the windows half opened and the light of early morning flooded the room, shining gentle purple and pink light on the desks and floors. This part of the building oversaw the courtyard and the sounds of happy, eager teenagers was the background music filling Ryou's ears. At the large desk in front of the room, two mischievous, green eyes glinted in the hazy light, and two lips curved to a smile at the teen boy's arrival.

-

Marik Ishtar had already visited his locker and put up the unnecessary books but keeping the binder tucked under his arm as he walked down the deserted hallways. Passing a clock, he noted that there were five minutes until homeroom began. He wanted to be in the room before Ryou Bakura arrived so that he could possibly return the binder without so many people in the room. He wanted their encounter to be as personal, as intimate, as possible.

He continued down the corridor, shuffling along and looking out but not really seeing the hallway, the lockers and doors that surrounded him. His purple eyes were overcast with his daydreams of Ryou Bakura, how perfect it would be when he took the blue binder from his hands. He might even smile at him. Marik Ishtar wanted that smile so badly, it was starting to hurt. Marik quickened his pace now, more than eager to reach the classroom.

As the hallway deteriorated before him, his footsteps eating up the linoleum-covered floor, and he drowned out every sound, replaying the only two sentences Ryou Bakura had ever said to him. But something broke through that angelic voice and Marik stopped with one foot lifted from the ground. He turned his head slightly, listening to that odd sound, it was foreign in these hallways. It was not the sound of laughter or a marker running down a whiteboard. The sound seemed to be coming from the classroom right next to him and he took a step back, pushing his face to the glass window on the door.

His purple eyes widened, just a bit. In the classroom, clouded with early morning haze from sunrise, the curtains drawn, a beam of light shone through to the front of the room, to the teacher's desk. Those sounds, those lust filled moans, were coming from Mr. Pearson who was seated on the top of his mahogany desk, pants drawn to his ankles, hem of his shirt halfway up his chest and his legs spread apart from each other.

And those perfect pink lips between those legs, two pale, delicate hands grasping Mr. Pearson's hips and he gasped again, throwing his head back, one hand fisting Ryou Bakura's silver hair. And just as stoically as Ryou Bakura had kneeled down before his teacher, watching him unzipping his trousers, he stood up again smoothing back his hair and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Ryou waited and Mr. Pearson's panting soon dwindled to small intakes of breath as he looked at his beautiful student through cloudy eyes. He smirked, said breathlessly, "Y-You're amazing, you know that?"

Ryou Bakura's eyes were not cloudy but focused. "Like I said before, I can't be bothered to do the next three reports for your class."

"I understand," He nodded, still smirking, mischievous eyes never leaving that body.

Ryou began to walk towards the door as his teacher stood, hurriedly pulling up his pants. He was stopped by the older man's voice and soon felt his hand on his shoulder. He leaned in, whispering, "You have a lot of potential, Ryou… You're a junior, right? Come senior year, you could be in a position to be Valedictorian." He slid his other hand around the boy's waist, tugging at the hem of his sweater, "Just work a little harder and—"

"Address me as Mr. Bakura. Don't use my first name." Ryou looked straight ahead, at the door that was less than two feet away. He narrowed his eyes when he felt the arm around his waist tighten and felt Mr. Pearson's hot breath on his neck. In one movement, he swatted away the hands and grabbed the door handle, opening it and stopping at one inch when he saw someone familiar just outside of the door. Two rounded, lavender eyes starred down at him as Marik Ishtar took a step backwards, like he'd seen a ghost. He stuttered incoherently, "I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't…"

Mr. Pearson's hand grabbed Ryou's shoulder forcefully before the boy could react to Marik and he whipped his head around, brown eyes narrowed as the older man hissed at him.

"Don't be so quick to turn your back on me, Mr. Bakura." His green eyes glistened. "It would be wise for you to be nice to me. I can give you everything and just as easily take it away, you know that."

"I gave you your payment, you know the deal. Let go of me." Ryou tried to keep his voice strict but it began to waver as the grip on his shoulder started to hurt him. His eyes flashed to the side and Marik was still there, looking as if he were about to run. Mr. Pearson's eyes are fixed on me, Ryou thought, his mind racing ahead as he grinned to himself. He gripped the door handle again and pulled it all the way open, immediately feeling relief where Mr. Pearson's hand once was.

Not wasting any time, Ryou walked to Marik Ishtar, leaning his head on the taller boy's chest, looking over at his teacher and smiling. Mr. Pearson growled under his breath, the faint blush on his face apparent as he tried to regain his composure. He walked back towards his desk, saying coolly, "You should hurry to your first period class, Mr. Bakura. You and your friend."

Marik flinched but refrained from saying anything to the teacher as Ryou Bakura closed the door in front of them, locking that man in his room, his world, with his fantasies. Ryou crinkled his nose at the door and then proceeded to look up at that face which had, at one point, been so horror-stricken. Ryou's eyes softened at his expression now, not scared or disgusted, simply confused. He squeezed lightly on the tanned arm to gain the teen's attention. Marik looked down at him, eyes transforming from a blank stare to breakable violet orbs.

"Y-Yes?"

Ryou put on a smile. "You saved me, Marik. I was in serious trouble for a second there, I didn't know what to do."

Taken aback by this, Marik didn't say anything. Ryou noticed his somewhat flustered state and continued, "… What were you doing out here, anyway?"

"I… um," His eyes darted around, but couldn't find anywhere to look besides right into Ryou Bakura's eyes. He was then reminded of what he'd seen in the classroom and went a little pale as he starred at Ryou's lips, rosy and innocent looking. It was amazing how dirty innocence could be. Ryou's round, doe eyes starring up at him and his body still pressed against him, Marik was feeling more than a bit dizzy and said the first thing that came to mind as he stepped away and held out a blue folder in front of himself.

"You dropped your binder, Ryou Bakura."

Perfect, he thought. No stutters, his voice didn't go higher, either. He savored the taste of Ryou's name on his tongue as he waited for the other teen to take his belonging. Ryou Bakura took it and smiled. And that was just for him.

* * *

To be continued… 


	4. The Secret

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: Hey there, here's the next chap. To answer a girl's question, Ryou acts this way because it's necessary to the plot. Besides that, this is AU and I get to make up the rules! Hooray for Robyn's World!

* * *

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Four

Lately, it seemed that no matter how hard Ryou Bakura tried, he could not pay attention to anything and certainly not his classes. As Ms. Sinclair continued to speak, addressing the entire class, concerning something on the board, Ryou Bakura looked around. Everyone else seemed to be understanding, or else they were all simply wonderful actors. No, he rethought as he scanned the room, no, they were all in sync with the teacher, with the appointed lessons and projects, upcoming events and such.

He tilted his head to fit the groves of his delicate hands, folded in each other on the desktop. He should not have to care about that sort of thing. He had the highest grade in the class, in almost all his classes. Ryou smiled inwardly. Oh how everyone must whisper about him. Ryou Bakura, he's so smart, but he seems to never study!

Does it come to him naturally?

Oh yes, it must. Beauty and brains. What a lucky boy.

Yes, he thought rather bitterly, yes, I am lucky. Breaking his train of thought was a folded piece of paper that had seemingly launched itself onto Ryou Bakura's desk. It landed by his hand and he immediately picked it up, unfolding it and revealing the message in sloppy handwriting: _What are you doing, Ryou?_

He looked to his side and saw a girl waving at him, her dyed blonde hair in her eyes, shading them. He knew that face. A girl from his lunch table. Ryou looked back to the paper barely hiding his disgust. I'm sitting in a classroom, same as you, he thought but instead wrote down: _Nothing._

Flicking it back across the desks, he ripped a sheet of loose-leaf paper from his notebook and began to write a note of his own.

-

It was so nice outside, Marik Ishtar noticed, his lavender eyes fixed on the window and the beautiful view it provided. The sun had fully bloomed, rising from the east like a flower in the morning, full and luscious. Beams of fresh light exploded through the naked trees in the school's courtyard and hit the building's windows, hit those lavender eyes and entranced them.

But little did the sun know that Marik Ishtar was only pretending to be entranced. He was not all that interested in the outside, that big beautiful flower, but in the sweet dandelion right in front of him. He had been watching Ryou Bakura ever since they had entered the classroom and he had taken his assigned seat behind the boy. He admired the curves of Ryou's elegant back, adorned in a light, white sweater and the silver hair that matched it perfectly, making the boy appear to be the very essence of the upcoming winter.

He had been savoring the words that Ryou Bakura had said to him on the way into the classroom, talking in a carefree way, seeming so laidback, while he himself had been tongue-tied and nervous.

Thanks for returning my binder. He'd said, First that thing with Mr. Pearson and now this. I certainly owe you a favor or two.

Thinking of that now, he turned back to the sun still radiant outside the window. _First that thing with Mr. Pearson…_Marik Ishtar did not want to think about that 'thing' but there it was, that image in his mind, Ryou kneeling down, sucking and nibbling — Was it wrong to want to be on the opposite end of that mouth? — Marik could not pretend it didn't happen, that he hadn't seen it. But that was none of his business, he told himself, What Ryou Bakura does is none of my business.

A piece of paper landed on his desk.

Marik Ishtar stopped and looked down at the square little thing, then around at the others in the classroom. He had never been handed a note, who was he supposed to give it to? When no one looked back at him, he examined it closer and found that his name had been written on the front. It was almost unbelievable to him. The only time he had seen his name was when he wrote it, or possibly on report cards when it was printed — by a computer, of course, no human would know his name.

He picked it up and unfolded it, careful not to rip a corner or tear a side.

_Hi, Marik. I hope I'm not bothering you, I'm just a little bored, I have no idea what's going on. You're so quiet back there, I can barely hear you breathing, what are you thinking about? You couldn't be listening to Sinclair, I don't think anyone really is. _

_Hey, you sit by yourself at lunch, don't you, Marik? I see you in that corner sometimes. Why don't we sit together today? We don't even have to be in the cafeteria if you don't want. Just tell me if you want to._

—_Ryou_

All he could think of to write was: _Okay._

There next three classes went entirely too slow for Marik who was anticipating much more than eating today. He had something special today, someone special was coming to see him and that made his heart jump. No one ever came to see him, no one cared about Marik Ishtar. For the longest time, Marik Ishtar felt that he had faded. Had become invisible and no one could see him, hear him, no one knew that a Marik Ishtar existed. And suddenly this angel had stopped what he was doing and looked straight at him.

He was not sure whether he had left the fade or maybe Ryou Bakura was simply that wonderful that he could see what no one else could.

That single thought made Marik Ishtar believe in miracles.

The lunch bell finally rang and all of Marik's classmates left without being dismissed. Marik Ishtar looked up from his desk at Mr. Pearson who seemed not to care and so he followed the rest of the class. For some reason he did not know, Marik felt the urge to turn around and tell that man his name. But he continued down the hallway, ignoring this desire and discovered himself in the cafeteria, sitting at the table that he occupied daily, in the corner of the large, fluorescently lit room.

He realized, shortly after seating himself, that he did not get anything from the lunch line. Though he wasn't hungry at all and the thought of food made him nauseous, he wondered if Ryou Bakura would think it strange, him not eating. Less than a moment had passed before Marik blinked and looked to the side where a soft tapping had occurred on one of the cafeteria's windows. Ryou Bakura looked down at him, smiling — beautiful smile, angelic smile — and waving him outside.

He stood right in front of the shorter teen and tightened his fist inside his jean pocket, trying to fight off these jitters. Ryou looked calm and relaxed as he looked back at Marik, something that seemed to come naturally to the boy like so many other things.

"Well don't look so happy to see me." Ryou laughed and Marik felt a twinge of guilt for not having said anything to contradict Ryou Bakura's sarcastic statement. He felt elated to see him. "We can sit over there, if you want." Ryou continued and pointed behind himself at the area under the once lush and green oak trees. Four or five picnic tables sat under the trees, desolate and lonely.

"Alright," Marik nodded, walking with him to the wooden tables. Marik sat on the bench, hands and forearms placed on the tabletop. Ryou seated himself on the actual tabletop, his sneakers planted on the bench and he immediately reached for a slice of pizza on a tray that was next to his hip.

Ryou stopped right when the slice was heading for his mouth, "Oh, wait, aren't you going to get anything to eat?"

Marik stopped starring and shook his head, averting his eyes, "No, I'm not all that hungry."

There was a second when Marik flickered his eyes towards the paler teen and he could've sworn he'd seen a small frown on Ryou's lips. That second passed too quickly for him to be sure and Ryou was smiling again, one eyebrow raised. "Hope you don't mind if _I_ eat, I'm starving. I had to skip breakfast this morning because I overslept. Guess I could've gotten something from the cafeteria in the morning but I had other things—"

"You have a brother, don't you?"

They both were rather surprised at what Marik Ishtar had said. He lowered his purple eyes to the table, starred at his hands and wondered why he asked such a thing. He already knew the answer and yet he had asked. Whether this sudden outburst was to confirm the existence of Ryou Bakura's brother or to change the subject was not clear, and there may not be a single answer.

He leaned back on the hand he had not been eating with. "Yeah. I have a brother, my twin. You probably haven't seen him around much, he likes to skip school." Ryou ended the sentence with a wistful smile at the clouds overhead.

"I have seen him," Marik said. "He's in my sixth period class and I see him sitting with you during lunch."

Immediately Marik reprimanded himself for that statement. It made him sound as if he were watching Ryou Bakura every second, starring in jealousy as his twin brother sat next to him with his arm around his waist where no one else could see it. It almost looked as if Ryou's brother was protecting him from the other teens who craved his attention every second. He looked up at Ryou who was not looking down at him, his big brown eyes focused on the overcast sky. He said, "Marik, I need to ask you something."

A flinch before speaking. "Alright."

Ryou Bakura's head instantly fell foreword, he looked into Marik's lavender eyes that nearly quivered under the boy's gaze. "Marik, about earlier, in Mr. Pearson's room… I know you were outside the door, watching, I saw the look on your face when I opened it."

"No, I—"

"You know," He cut Marik off but did it with a knowing smile, suddenly laidback again as he took in a deep breath and his eyes softened. "In the three years that I've been giving favors for grades, I don't think anyone but my big brother has ever figured out what I've been doing. It's been a secret. It was kind of a heavy secret to carry on my own but then my brother found out and it didn't feel so bad anymore… Like since my big brother knew about it, it couldn't be so bad, right? But now you know."

Marik felt a lump in his throat, stuck right in his windpipe and he felt as if he couldn't breathe. He felt as if he were going to die.

Ryou took Marik Ishtar's right hand in both of his and held it, stroking the palm tenderly with his thumbs. He continued speaking while bringing the teen's hand closer to his upper chest, at the base of his neck. "And I feel terrible. Marik, the second I saw your face, for the first time in my life, I felt as if I were doing something really bad. Still I used you to get away from Mr. Pearson but, Marik, I'm sorry you had to find out about it. It… It's a stupid secret," He sniffed, taking one hand away to wipe at the corner of his eye, "But we all know it, don't we? Me, Bakura and now you."

Marik had to say something. He shook his head, taking the liberty of squeezing Ryou Bakura's hand. "Y-You don't have to apologize to me. Everybody has a secret."

_I_ have a secret, he confessed to Ryou Bakura in his mind.

"Heh, yeah… Everybody. Marik Ishtar," His smile struggled to take over the boy's face once again. The smile was pitiful, rigid and forced. Marik Ishtar loved it. "I don't believe that everyone has a secret. You're so innocent; you wear your emotions on your sleeve. How could you have a secret? But now… Marik, I have to ask you to have a secret."

Already have one, Ryou Bakura, he thought but instead said to him: "It's okay, I can keep your secret." He added, "I don't have anyone to tell, anyway."

Ryou was still holding his hand, now looking at him with a tilted head. "Poor Marik Ishtar. Heaping you with my burdens."

"You haven't heaped me with anything, I… I want to help you."

Ryou Bakura let go of Marik's hand, placing it on top of the other tanned body part. He hopped off of the tabletop and continued to face the school as he said, "Well, the bell is going to ring in a few minutes. It doesn't seem like we've been out here long, but… Marik, I'd like to sit with you again. Tomorrow?"

"You don't owe me anything…" He said, trying not to sound as bitter as he felt. Was this why they had sat together? So Ryou Bakura could secure his secret with him?

A beat of thought. "You're right, I don't." Ryou moved his head, giving Marik the view of one coffee-colored eye. "You wouldn't have said anything about what I do, I know that. But, Marik, I like you. So, tomorrow." He began to walk away, towards the other side of the cafeteria, brown and yellow leaves crunching under his sneakers. Marik could not contain what he said next.

"Do you know why I like _you_, Ryou Bakura?"

The crunching of the dead leaves stopped.

"You're… the only one who knows my name."

"Oh, everybody knows your name, Marik. I'm just… the only one who can say it." He shrugged and the leaves were massacred even after death.

-

The door opened and it was quiet inside the house. Ryou Bakura did not expect to hear the sounds of people, voices or laughter. His parents were on vacation for a week, but that was _their_ estimate. Over the years, Ryou and his brother had figured that one week meant two or three. Business trips; he rolled his eyes at the very idea. As he continued down the unlit hallway, he began to take off his school bag, ready to throw it on his bed when he entered his room.

In the middle of the corridor, he was taken and pushed up against the wall, the school bag down on the floor in a matter of seconds. A warm mouth covered his own and muffled his surprised yelp. He relaxed instantly, as he felt the familiar curves of his attacker and the silky hair that he tangled around his index finger, pulling back shortly from the kiss and smiling though it was unseen in the dark.

"You're late," He mumbled, nuzzling the soft skin in the crook of Ryou's neck. There was no disappointment in his voice, merely a playful tone as he nipped his way to the pale collarbone, his hands resting on the boy's hips.

Ryou craned his neck, giving his brother better access. "You're in a good mood, then did you beat your game?" He received a grunt in response. Ryou continued, "Then will you come to school tomorrow, Bakura?"

"Neither of us may be going to school tomorrow. _They're_ gone. We could skip three weeks of school. Stay in the bedroom and try to break that world record…"

"No," Ryou shook his head, moaning as his jeans fell around his ankles, the cool air hitting his erection. "I-I'm going to school tomorrow."

"You don't have to."

He smiled, "Yes, I do. Marik Ishtar and I are sitting together at lunch… like we did today. I…" His legs quivered and he forgot what he was going to say.

A low chuckle sounded throughout the lonely hallway. "Marik Ishtar, your new boyfriend? Then are you dumping me, _Ry_?"

"N…"

* * *

To be continued… 


	5. Smile

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: Alright guys, the chapter's late and I'm sorry. To make up for it, I tried really hard to make it interesting and it's long so let's give it a chance, shall we?

* * *

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Five

Ryou Bakura came to school all that week. It was strange at first, Marik thought, because he never saw Ryou Bakura in homeroom. Everyday that week he came in late, just a little before lunchtime. Marik Ishtar missed seeing his back in their first period class and he missed getting that note everyday, redundant in it's main point but wonderful all the same: _Same table, alright?_ And that same answer he wrote down, day after day: _Okay._ Funny that he never wrote down everything he wanted to say.

But the weather was tricky that week. Being in the middle of November, the soft winds and butterscotch skies of autumn were failing, and the dark skies and frigid, lashing winds of winter were becoming more frequent. But Ryou Bakura always found it necessary to sit outside, still at the picnic tables, even if there was a biting wind about. But Marik Ishtar never objected and found that he loved seeing the wind jostle Ryou's hair and watching him try to pat it back down. But nothing was ever the same with Ryou Bakura and that was another thing Marik found that he liked about the boy.

Not just the hair but his moods as well. As the week progressed, Marik noticed that Ryou's _moods_ changed. He could be smiling and laughing one minute and then solemn and on the verge of tears the next. The tears, Marik thought, probably were a result of how he felt after he _earned_ his grades with the teachers. Marik could not help the feeling of wanting to hold Ryou's hand in his, swing it and tell that beautiful boy what he truly felt. Stop doing this, Ryou Bakura, stop hurting yourself.

But over those next few days, Marik Ishtar found out quite a bit about Ryou Bakura and he knew what he might say.

Haven't been hurt yet. Don't worry about me, he would say with a smile. Damn that beautiful, broken smile. Marik could see it cracking under the weight of that haunted face. Stunning brown eyes closed, mouth curved and those perfect pink lips. Marik could've sworn that on that first day, he'd witnessed a small spot of Mr. Pearson's semen on Ryou Bakura's lips. He resisted the urge to lick it off.

Marik Ishtar resisted many urges in the company of Ryou. He was so fragile, seemed liable to break if Marik even breathed wrong. What is someone to do when around a thing like that? A fragile entity that you find yourself wanting to be a bit rough with? Marik did not know and was almost at wit's end when he arrived home after the school day and barely made it to the bathroom. Nights were the worst, he determined. Home, period, was the worst. Before he began to spend time with Ryou Bakura, going home alone, eating alone and speaking to himself was just routine.

But now when he went home, something happened. A strange feeling that he was not familiar with. Then he realized that he _missed_ Ryou. So he made it a point to try and dull that feeling. When he came home, Ryou Bakura appeared in front of him. That boy looked so wonderful on the dingy, old couch in the middle of the tiny living room. Dusk filtered through the blinds in the small kitchen and the entire apartment seemed so lonely but that was before Ryou Bakura came over.

In Marik Ishtar's imagination, Ryou would sit on the couch and listen as he told him everything he felt was important. He told him about the dream he'd had the night after they bumped into each other in the hallway. Ryou sat there, hands clasped together in his lap as he regarded Marik with a curious expression, brown eyes always bright and alert, the dusky sun making no difference in their brilliance.

"And you said you were in love with me." Marik finished, not feeling the same nervousness he felt with Ryou Bakura during school hours. He wondered why that was. Maybe it was because this Ryou Bakura never gave him that _smile_. That arrangement of features that held too much sweetness for Marik to handle. Too much sadness. That smile made Marik feel small. As if he were unable to help Ryou with whatever he might be going through.

_This_ Ryou Bakura did not smile.

After Marik had said his piece to the glorious thing beside him, that Ryou said nothing. He simply continued in his questioning glance.

Why am I here? Marik thinks he would like to say.

Marik answers himself. "I miss Ryou Bakura," He said and then was caught off-guard by his own voice. He did not expect to sound so sad. But that was how he felt. Had to get his feelings out, if only to this fake Ryou Bakura. "I miss Ryou Bakura, that's how I feel. I miss him."

Why?

His own lips moved and the fake Ryou Bakura kept his expression placid.

Marik thought for a moment and his feeling worsened. He closed his eyes, opened them and was alone again. He did not miss the fake Ryou Bakura.

-

Friday morning, Ryou Bakura's eyes open again and the world is alive. It's strange how when your eyes close, the world stops spinning, only for you to wake again and there everything is, has been, and will be, only for you. Feeling his brother's arms wrapped around his waist, a smile was first to come to Ryou's lips and the world began to sing. The chest that moved rhythmically behind his stopped as soon as Ryou started to stir.

"Stop," Was the blunt command that came from his brother's lips. He grumbled the word and wrapped his arms tighter around the frail body, nuzzling his face into the silver hair. "Stop all that moving, I'm trying to sleep…"

"It's six o' clock, 'Kura and you know I'm leaving at nine to make it in time for lunch." Ryou looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. He said with a smile, "You have three hours, better make it last."

Ryou would've denied admitting it, but he was startled when the two arms identical to his pulled him under the sea of blue comforters. He'd found out a while back that it was fun to drown with Bakura.

-

"Marik, do you think you could wait for me after school?"

The courtyard during the first lunch, wind was whipping through the tired trees and branches fell to the ground, battered and beaten, lying beneath the picnic tables. The one closet to the large oak tree, that was the one where Ryou Bakura and Marik Ishtar were seated. As usual, Marik sitting on the bench, hands either clasped on the table or settled in his lap while Ryou sat on the tabletop, hands propping him up, shoulders back and cherry lips forcing Marik to cross his legs.

He looked away from the ground, blinking up at that pale face. Responding to Marik's not saying anything, Ryou let his shoulders droop a little. "I-If you don't, that's alright, I—"

"No, I do," He said hurriedly, as if this would be his only chance. "Just a little shocked is all…"

"Well you don't have to be shocked." Ryou narrowed his eyes mischievously, leaning in and resting his forearms on his knees. "I know you ride the bus home, so I didn't think you would be willing to miss it. But we could walk together, if you want. Though our houses are a little far apart." He was talking as if he were the only one around, reasoning with himself about one thing or another, contradicting himself.

Marik shook his head lightly, still a little surprised. He made an attempt to sound like a normal teenager. "That's alright. I'm really in no hurry to get home anyway, I-I have to study for some math test."

"Really," Ryou said, mind somewhere else for the moment. He came back a second later, regarding Marik with a sudden interest. "Wait, you mean Mrs. Olsen's math test?"

He nodded, yes.

Ryou leant back again. "I have that same one, my fifth period. I hate that class, I always get Fs…" A beat of thought before continuing. Marik Ishtar knew his secret already, he said he was okay with it. Why shouldn't I be able to speak with him about it? Ryou thought. "_Mrs_. Olsen. She's married, two kids and all. I can't work with her like some of the others, found that out the hard way."

A lightning strike of shock in lavender orbs. Marik's eyes dropped to the floor and his thumbs rubbed up against each other.

"I'm sorry," Ryou said, immediately realizing his mistake. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound… like a whore. It just… comes out sometimes and it's always around you. My brother—Bakura—he doesn't like to hear about it… And no one else knows and then you came along and… and I'm sorry."

Marik fumbled for something coherent to say, something that would neither make Ryou Bakura turn away nor give him that _smile_. A few seconds passed and Ryou's warm cocoa eyes turned a little cooler, he looked to the side, a forlorn expression on his face. The air was silent and the wind blew again, somewhat gentler than before and Ryou didn't bother to pat down his hair. Chocolate orbs were shaking and Marik took in this vision of weakness in front of him.

Somehow, and he wasn't exactly sure why but somehow, this felt good. Seeing Ryou Bakura as he truly is, a fragile figure in need of help. His arms shivering in the wind despite his sweater and the reddening of his cheeks as the wind whipped against them. Marik was forced to resist another urge and he resisted it well but he found that there was a flip side to this wonderful, dizzy feeing he was getting. Someone to protect Ryou Bakura, someone to love him.

That could be me, he thought. Why _couldn't_ it be me to love him?

He pondered this and continued to stare at the boy, not realizing that Ryou's eyes were no longer tossed to the side but were flickering back and forth between Marik and the tabletop. The question that was forming in his eyes went unnoticed by the tanned teen sitting next to him who scrutinized every part of him. Ryou Bakura's cheeks grew redder.

Poor thing, they each thought.

Ryou, getting more uncomfortable with the lavender eyes running down his body and the silence pushing down on him, decided to tread in the deep water. "Hey, I've got an idea," He said light-heartedly, swinging his legs back and forth from the tabletop. "Since we've both got the same test tomorrow, why don't we study together?"

Marik Ishtar's eyes must've enlarged because Ryou laughed. "Stop acting like you don't expect me to say these things. We are friends, after all."

Are we? He wanted to ask but instead found something less pathetic to say. "I-I know, I just… Tonight?"

"Well the test _is_ tomorrow, so it would benefit us to do it tonight."

Ryou clearly had the upper hand in the conversation once again and Marik tried his best not to sound so dumbfounded even though that was his feeling at the moment. He smiled sheepishly. "I know… So, um, your house?"

There was a second when Ryou didn't say anything and suddenly shook his head. "No, that's no good. They're renovating at my house. It'd be too loud for us to concentrate, let's do it at your house."

Different feelings flooded Marik's body then, all of them rushing to his head, a dizzy sensation accompanying them. He hadn't a lot of time to sort them out but the strongest feeling he recognized as happiness. A sort of near-giddy smile came to his lips and he was quick to hide it when Ryou busted into tiny giggles and Marik's face reddened as he turned away.

"I-I'm sorry, Marik," Ryou stifled the rest of the giggles, saving them for a time when he would be lonely and sad and he would be able to look back on this. "I didn't mean to laugh but… It's just so refreshing."

He looked up guiltily. "What is?" He mumbled.

"Just… how you are. How you wear your emotions on your sleeves. That's why I don't think you could have a secret, Marik, if you did, it wouldn't be a secret for long." Ryou shrugged and his voice waded through a bit of wistfulness as he continued. "No matter what you're feeling, you show it and I like that. Marik, you're… you're very cute, Marik Ishtar."

Those words were foreign to Marik's ears. Cute? For as long as he had lived and even when he was young, living with his mother—and he barely remembered the woman—he had never been referred to as cute. He wasn't sure if it was something that someone like himself should be proud of but it was nice to have Ryou Bakura regard him with such tenderness in his voice. Marik could stand being cute for Ryou Bakura.

-

Everybody else in the school had left, maybe fifteen minutes ago. The halls were empty, varied doors were still closed, teachers working after hours and Marik Ishtar was standing beside one of the closed doors. In the second hallway of the school's first building, he leaned against the wall, waiting patiently for his friend, Ryou Bakura. A door down the hall opened and a professor peeked his head out, looking straight at Marik. The teacher went back into his room as if nothing he hadn't seen anyone and Marik was not surprised or offended.

I have someone to notice me now, someone who knows my name, he thought. This thought sustained him until the last five minutes of waiting was over and the door he had been waiting by opened.

Ryou Bakura's hand was on the handle as he came out, hair a bit mussed and his shirt wrinkled. He smiled up at Marik; not the terrible, pathetic smile but the warm, reassuring one, the one that Ryou gave even when everything wasn't okay. The smile that lied. The one Marik Ishtar loved.

"Let's go," Ryou said. Marik nodded, not bothering to ask why the boy had been in the principal's office for so long.

They walked along the dusky sidewalks in clear silence. Branches blew quietly , not as fierce as they had during lunch earlier and maybe that's because even the trees felt Marik's tenseness. As they walked side-by-side, the narrow sidewalk pushing them together, his lilac eyes darted to the boy beside him and he watched as the jeans shifted in tightness as he continued swinging his legs.

Marik shook his head inadvertently and began to think about what Ryou Bakura had said earlier. _We're friends after all_. For as long as he was allowed to remember, he had never had a friend. And along comes Ryou Bakura, beautiful and sweet and he wanted to be friends. Even in his wildest dreams, it was more than Marik could've asked for.

So why was it not enough?

Ryou stopped suddenly, putting his hand on the back of his head. "Ugh. Marik," He turned to the blonde who had ceased walking as well. "We have to stop off at my house if you don't mind. This morning I left my Geometry textbook in my room and I'll need that to study—"

"Oh, that's okay," Marik nodded, careful not to seem too compliant or eager. "We can stop, I'm not in a hurry."

Ryou smiled brightly and they continued on another two blocks before they reached a beautiful neighborhood, familiar to Marik Ishtar only because he walked passed here sometimes but he never dreamed Ryou Bakura lived here. In this neighborhood, all the houses looked alike. Every one, white and large, not a mansion but close enough to intimidate the average citizen. But then, Marik thought, wasn't Ryou an average citizen?

Something inside him said no and they stopped right in front of the house at the end of the street. It was exactly like all the others and Marik wondered how Ryou knew this one was his. The paler of the two began to walk up the driveway and to the porch, taking a key from his pocket and unlocking the door. Marik stayed at the sidewalk and when Ryou looked back, he waved Marik over.

"Come on," He said when Marik arrived. "This'll only take a minute, I swear."

They walked in and Marik was overcome with butterflies. The house was even more gorgeous inside, bright and sophisticated, much like Ryou himself. Ryou walked through the kitchen and down the hallway while Marik looked around, worried. Ryou Bakura's house was so wonderful and where was their destination? His home? His apartment? It was dirty, he rarely cleaned it, him being the only one who ever saw it, and there were no pictures of family or friends… He realized that he and Ryou were two different people; Ryou, a first-class citizen and him, just another blank face with a terrible living space.

He stopped his agonizing when a shrill cry echoed throughout the house. Marik looked into the kitchen doorway and down the hallway adjacent to it. Saw nothing and ventured forth, hearing strange noises—talking?—and small sounds of frustration.

-

Ryou Bakura held his brother's hands down at his sides, trying not to let them wander as they were so famous for it. He had come down this way just to fetch his textbook but was once again intercepted by the slightly taller him, the figure in the darkness smiling and groping, immediately ready to undress him.

"Stop it, 'Kura, we can't do this right now," He whispered harshly.

Bakura rolled his eyes and leaned in again, his body pressing Ryou's into the wall. He smirked, rolling his eyes. "Sure I can't. Ry, stop playing, I've been waiting for you all day…" He trailed off, planting fevered kisses on the teen's neck, leaving small wet spots.

"I'm serious! Stop, Marik is in the house, I'm just here to get my—Marik." Finally, Ryou shoved his brother off of himself, and Bakura sent him an agitated look before following his younger brother's fearful doe eyes to behind them where, in the doorway, was an unfamiliar figure.

The light went on, as done by Marik's hand, and his lavender eyes scanned Ryou and Bakura in their current position. Ryou studied the confusion in Marik's eyes and decided that he didn't understand what was going on. He took in a small breath and walked from between his brother and the wall, to between Marik and Bakura.

He smiled up at Marik. "I-I was just saying hi to my brother. Oh, hey, where are my manners? Bakura, this is my friend, Marik Ishtar. Marik, this is my big brother."

An awkward silence followed and Ryou wasn't sure what to do but he was saved by Marik who seemed to have forced a timid smile and said: "Hello," And his brother responded by leaning against the wall, and muttering "Hey," or something of the like. Ryou nodded and said to Marik: "Well I'll just get the book and we'll be out of here."

Marik nodded and watched as Ryou continued down the hallway, simultaneously watching as Bakura followed after him, shutting the door to the room they entered together.

-

Ryou, now in his and his brother's bedroom in the back of the house, searched around the room for the textbook he had forgotten that morning, saying things to himself such as: "Where did I put it…?" He stopped his rummaging around when the bedroom door shut with a loud force and Bakura was seen leaning back on it, almost as a barricade.

"I'm not here to play, 'Kura," Ryou said lightly.

Bakura shook his head, not paying any attention to what was just said. "Who's that guy out there?"

"I told you; Marik Ishtar. Over the past week we've been sitting at lunch together and… well we're friends now." He finally found the Geometry textbook and picked it up. "We're just going over his house to study for a test tomorrow."

There was a look of disgust in his brother's eyes and it made Ryou feel smaller than he should've. "_Study_? I can't even remember the last time you studied for a test. What, the teacher said no to your pretty little mouth?"

Ryou flinched, he felt like Bakura had slapped him in the face which was how he usually felt when they got into this. He hated this topic, especially with his big brother. After they had spent their first time together when they were fourteen, in the darkness of the night, Bakura had asked that Ryou never give part of himself to another teacher. He asked that only they could share his body and as much as Ryou wanted it and _still_ wants it, he declined. He just couldn't get those grades on his own and how would it look to their mother and father, him getting Fs? Ryou getting bad grades was not an option.

So they tried not to talk about it but every once in a while it came up and Ryou hated it so much. He found nothing to say except: "I'm sorry, Bakura…"

"Damn it, Ryou, I don't want your apology!" He banged his fist on the door and stood up straight. Ryou took a step back. "I want you to say you'll never do it again! That boy out there, Marik Ishtar, does he know about what you do?"

There was a beat of thought. Shouldn't lie to his big brother. "Y-Yes…"

A look of astonishment flashed in Bakura's eyes, him shaking his head as if Ryou was a child and had done something wrong. "So let me ask you this, Ryou. You let your friend know about the disgusting things you do with your teachers but you won't let him see me kiss you, is that right?" Voice was getting louder now. "Are you ashamed of the fact that you love me, Ryou? Ryou, answer me! Why do we have to hide it like this? Why can't I put my arm around you in public, why can't Marik Ishtar see you kiss me?"

Ryou was shaking too hard to answer and the hot tears that stung at his eyes were not helping. He barely choked out: "You know that isn't true, Bakura! B-But you know that us… us together, it isn't right in society's eyes!"

"The hell it isn't! Do you want to know why I never come to school anymore, Ryou? Do you? Because _I_ have to watch as other people hit on you and _I_ have to see when teachers tell you: 'After class,' and _I_ can't say what I want to say! I can't tell them that you're mine!"

"Don't do this…"

"Show me your self-worth, Ryou." Bakura's voice was shaking too and Ryou looked up through a watery vision to see that his eyes were turning red as well. "Show me that you're worth all the torment this has put me through, show me that you love me!"

Ryou wiped at his eyes with both hands, smearing the redness all over his face and then stood from where he had been shaking on the bed. His legs felt new, unused before and he tried to balance as he walked to the door, his hand on the doorknob. He didn't look back at his brother when he opened the door and gently shut it behind himself, hearing distraught sobs and holding in his own.

He walked up to a confused-looking Marik Ishtar in the hallway, held up the book and was afraid that his argument with his brother had destroyed the smile he gave Marik. Marik noticeably shuddered.

"What's wrong?" Ryou tilted his head.

"… Nothing,"

-

The air was calming as they walked down the following five blocks into the city. Marik didn't live in the suburbs as Ryou did but on the outskirts of downtown, in an apartment building. Marik blushed fiercely when he told Ryou that he did not live in a big, beautiful house but Ryou didn't seem to care and continued talking as he had been. Marik wondered why he was talking so fast, about things that didn't matter. And why had he been crying earlier?

And why did he give him that smile…?

They arrived to the building soon enough and Ryou Bakura marveled at how high it was, him living in the up-town neighborhoods he was not used to seeing seven or eight stories on one structure.

"I live on the fifth floor," Marik said as they were entering the building, stepping into the elevator soon afterward. Ryou pressed the fifth button and it lit up, taking them passed floors one, two, three and four. The elevator stopped and the doors squeaked when opening, revealing a long hallway that led out to the rest of the floor and doors with numbers were scattered all over the place. Different things were in the hallway, a trash can and a large, red axe by a fire extinguisher. They only walked about twenty feet before Marik stopped, getting a key out of his back pocket.

"Here we go," He said rather mournfully as Ryou walked inside ahead of him. He shook his head, shutting the door lightly. "I-I'm sorry it's such a mess in here, no one ever comes over so I don't make it a point to…"

"Oh, please don't tell me that, Marik," Ryou had sat down on the couch in the center of the room and looked up at Marik with a placid look on his face. Marik's breath caught in his throat. Fake Ryou? "It's sad to think that no one's ever come over your house before. I'm here, aren't I? So you don't have to think of the past now."

Marik nodded, not able to voice what he wanted to say.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Ryou Bakura.

A little while passed, maybe thirty minutes before they actually got down to studying. Marik pulled out his own notebook and textbook while Ryou opened the one he had retrieved from his house. They went over a study sheet that they had been given by Mrs. Olsen earlier in the week but neither of them had even bothered to look at it. They were struggling with most of it, neither of them having listened in class before. Friendly chit-chat took hold of them after a while.

"So do you live here alone?" Ryou asked, twirling his mechanical pencil in his hand. He laughed, "It's got that bachelor feel to it."

Marik nodded. "Yeah. When my parents died, I moved here with the life insurance money. It's sustained me for a while but I'm going to have to get a job soon or I'll lose the apartment… Sometimes I wish I did live with someone though, a friend… or a brother." Marik took in a small breath and took the plunge. "I-If you don't mind me asking… did you get into a fight with Bakura?"

The smaller one looked mildly surprised at this question but shook it off quickly. "Yes, but it isn't the first time. It… it wasn't a huge fight or anything, he just annoys me sometimes, as all brothers do."

He finished his statement with that broken smile and Marik wanted to look away but found that he couldn't. "It was pretty loud… He was loud, I mean." The blonde twiddled with his thumbs, now ignoring the study sheet. "And I heard some of it… Like he wanted you to stop… what you're doing with the teachers."

Ryou lowered his eyes. "Marik—"

"And I think he's right." Marik blurted out. "Someone so beautiful shouldn't subject themselves to that, you don't need to. I know that coming from me, it may not mean much, but I don't want you to get hurt. Y-You always seem so sad and I think that's the effect this whole thing has on you. You say you're my friend but you give me those smiles, those God-awful smiles!" He was getting hysteric now and Ryou had no idea how to react. He shook his head and continued, "And I hate them so much… You're so sad but I can't do anything to help you!"

A pause.

"But I want to, I want to help you so… so just stop. Please, Ryou Bakura, don't do these things anymore."

Ryou's head slowly began to move from side to side. "Marik, don't you start too, I can't take this,"

"You don't have to take it!" He rose up from the floor, now sitting on his knees, leaned towards Ryou who was quivering. "Just promise me you won't do anymore!"

"I can't promise you that,"

"Then…" Marik looked around at the room. It was almost seeming to melt and he closed his eyes to get away from the reality of what he had said to Ryou Bakura. That angel might hate him now, he had seen that he stormed out on his own brother but Marik was really nothing more than a stranger. Ryou could walk out that door and he would never see him again. Never. Marik opened his eyes again and Fake Ryou Bakura was laying down by the real one who quietly sobbed. Fake One kept his placid expression and Marik's own lips moved with his.

I'm in love with you, Ishtar.

Yes, I am.

Marik turned to Ryou. "What if I said I loved you back, Ryou? Could you promise me then that you wouldn't do it again?"

Ryou's shivers calmed and he looked up at Marik, a quizzical look on his face. He croaked out: "What? Love me… back?"

"Yes," Marik nodded, almost excited. "Remember when you told me you loved me? Well I love you back."

"… But Marik, I never said I loved you. I-I never said anything remotely like that."

"Yes, you did! You said it that night I bumped into you in the hallway! Your exact words were, I'm in love with you, Ishtar. You said that, Ryou." Marik now had a desperate tone to his voice, reverted back to his childhood when he wished his father would remember that he was his son. "Please tell me you remember now, Ryou Bakura."

There was a pause and Ryou finally began to get up from his spot on the floor, picking up his things in a hurried manner. He got up with his textbook and papers in his arms, heading for the door. "I'm sorry, Marik, but I have to go,"

"R-Ryou!" Marik was frightened, tears ran down his face but he couldn't feel them. He was so scared, Don't walk away, Ryou!

The door opened.

I'm in love with you, Ishtar.

I'm in love with you too, Ryou Bakura.

Ryou had been too confused and upset to hear Marik coming up behind him. Everything got hazy and then it went pitch-black, like midnight when the lights went out and Ryou heard his brother's moan.

* * *

To be continued… 


	6. Was Forgotten

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: -cries- I've had the worst day! My computer had to get cleaned because of a lightning storm and ALL my music got erased! Sixty dollars worth! My internet got put out and people had to come out to fix it! Thankfully none of my chapters were harmed. I'm upset so please don't tell me the chapter is late because I _know_. T.T

* * *

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Six

The lights were all off in the room, pitch-black, everything a source of midnight except the television screen. In the darkness, it glowed a cerulean blue, images flashing and the speakers blasting sounds and echoes; screams, blood soaring through the air and guns and swords. Truly, it was not this dark outside, dusk now in the natural light but all the blinds were drawn. A console hooked up to the television set was connected to a controller and it was being held by the only inhabitant in the room and the house, maybe even the world.

Bakura's red-brown eyes were fixed on the game, the only other part of him moving were his fingers, dancing across the controller. He'd been playing this game for an hour now, having already cried everything he had in spite of himself. He knew that it was uncharacteristic of him to do anything of the sort, crying was certainly Ryou's job.

Then what is mine, he asked himself, killing yet another pawn on the game.

Holding Ryou. Making all the crying stop. Whispering soft words of comfort when Ryou came out of a teacher's room, his shirt torn and sobbing but keeping that smile on his face. Bakura admitted to himself, there was no beauty like a distraught Ryou. Nothing compared. But some beauty should never be unveiled and his job was to keep that veil on his younger brother's pretty face and to keep a veil on his own. But the veils fell off.

The controller dropped from the pale teen's hands and he let his head droop to the side of the chair he was sitting in. Bakura wished to beg for Ryou's forgiveness, he never should've said any of that. He should've been quiet about his feelings like he often was with Ryou. Just tell his little brother what he felt more than anything: I love you, I love you. But he felt other things too.

Bakura looked at the phone, wishing he had Marik Ishtar's phone number. Just to say sorry, just to say: Come back home, I'm sorry. But that would have to wait. Just then, Bakura's eyes widened and his hands flew to hold his head which was searing with pain. He groaned out, kneeling on the cream-colored carpet and cringed.

And just as quick as it had come, it left and it left Bakura panting hard.

-

Marik Ishtar watched the unconscious form laying on the couch in his small living room. He watched from just beside the figure, kneeling on the carpet, his head resting on his arms that were on the couch cushions. His whole body shook, tiny tremors that rang off small alarms inside his head. Ryou Bakura's chest was rising and falling rhythmically now and no one would be able to tell that he was unconscious but Marik knew. Marik knew what happened and at the same time he didn't know.

It had all happened so fast. Ryou Bakura was going to go away and he would have never seen him again, they would've never sat together at lunch again and he would not have ever ventured inside the boy's house again. He'd had to do something quick but he was frightened, Ryou Bakura did not remember confessing his love to him? How does one forget something like that?

That Marik didn't know and it scared him so bad. That's when the tremors started and Marik grabbed that pretty boy's shoulder and pushed him into the wall. Ryou fell back with a small yelp and Marik took him in his arms and put him on the couch. But that was over thirty minutes ago. Now Marik shook his head to himself, small child-like whimpers coming from him as he whispered to Ryou: "W-Wake up and tell me that you love me now, Ryou Bakura… wake up,"

His hand crawled foreword and touched the hem of Ryou's shirt, lightly tugging on it. Whether Ryou remembered his love for Marik or not, Marik still wanted him to wake up, to prove that, despite being knocked unconscious, he was still the same person Marik fell in love with. But still, all this indecision about Ryou Bakura and this love was not going to change what he had done.

Ryou wanted to leave this place, leave Marik, probably forever. But that was not the problem. Marik _stopped_ Ryou from leaving, put his hands on beautiful Ryou and pushed him to the wall, knocking him out cold. He ran his tan hand over the boy's pale face, moved strands of silver hair out of the way and looked at those closed eyes.

Why had he done such a thing?

Didn't he know that was a _bad_ thing?

Didn't Marik Ishtar _know_ that any second now, Ryou Bakura could wake up and run to the nearest police station?

Marik Ishtar kidnapped me, he could hear Ryou saying.

Marik Ishtar kidnapped me. And I _hate_ Marik Ishtar.

He drew away from the sleeping teenager, slumping to the floor, his arms wrapped securely around himself. He shook his head from side to side. That's not right, he thought. Ryou Bakura loves me and he would never say those things, never ever. Tears clouded his eyes creating a lilac mist. Marik lifted his head from his arms and starred out, closing his eyes and opening them again.

Fake Ryou sat in a similar position in front of him, arms wrapped around his legs, knees drawn up to his chest; Marik was startled and his small gasp threatened to evolve into a scream when Fake Ryou leant in, their faces now close. Marik, instinctively, tilted his head away, his eyelids drooping once again.

"You're not the one I want…" He mumbled, looking sidelong at the couch cushions and the sleeping boy they cradled. Marik looked back at Fake Ryou. "It's him, he's the one I love, he's the one who said he loved me back…"

'Yes.'

And for the first time since meeting Fake Ryou that day on his couch, Marik's lips did not move for him. Fake One willed his own speech, he looked at Marik Ishtar and his rosy lips that were very much similar to Ryou Bakura's moved. They moved and Marik Ishtar did not tell them to, did not wish for him to say anything much less on his own. And a thought hit Marik. He did not summon Fake Ryou when he appeared.

Marik starred, lavender eyes wide as they scrutinized that placid face, pale and beautiful, just like Ryou Bakura. Same sweetness in the smile he gave but it was different. Ryou Bakura's smiles were filled with sadness, bubbling with misery just below the surface to where Marik thought it would all filter through the boy's pores. But Fake Ryou's smile was happy, almost childlike and it gave that face a serene glow.

"W-What?" Marik asked.

'Yes.' He said again; chocolate vats concentrated on Marik's eyes and his head dropped to meet the tanned boy's knees, literally making him jump. Fake One looked up immediately when he felt Marik tense. His gaze deepened and he seemed to be searching for something in Marik's eyes. 'Yes, I love you. I love you, Marik Ishtar.'

There was a shy smile that Marik showed then. He shook his head, relaxing now, his shoulders drooping. "But Ryou—"

'Loves you. Too bad for Marik Ishtar that he does not remember like I do.' Fake Ryou's smile turned impish though he kept his innocence about him. He continued, his head coming back to meet Marik's knees. He sighed, brown eyes starring at Ryou on the couch, the two eyes narrowing slightly. 'Ryou Bakura loves you, loves everything about you, loves your name and you and everything. Just does not remember saying it, does not remember like we do.'

Marik, who watched Ryou lying still as well, looked down to the boy's head leaning on his legs. "What do you mean he… doesn't remember? Y-You can't just forget saying you love someone… if you meant it." Marik fought against the upcoming flood in his eyes. "But there really isn't any proof that he meant it at all. Now that I think about it, it is kind of silly for me to think… that out of everybody who loves him, he'd love me back."

Poor Marik Ishtar lost that fight.

"He wants to get away from me now, after what I've done… he'll wake up and run to his brother or the first person he sees…" He ran his wrist over his lavender eyes, wiping up stray tears but missing most of them.

The Fake One watched Marik's movements stoically and his smile broke out again, bigger and brighter than ever. 'Make him remember,' He said, attempting to grab Marik's attention. 'Make Ryou Bakura remember how much he loves Marik Ishtar.'

Marik didn't look at him, his right wrist still covering half his face. He sniffed again, taking in a deep breath and calming his nerves. He'd gotten rather good at comforting himself in the past week. "I-I can't just _make_ him remember—"

'You can make lots of things happen with time, Marik Ishtar,' Fake Ryou sat up straight and pulled Marik's hands into his own, drawing them up to his face. Marik watched now, red around his purple, intense eyes. He ran his fingers over Marik's palms and bent his head foreword into those hands and kissed them lightly, pink lips lingering only for a moment. Violet eyes widened as coffee-brown eyes looked up again; smiling, he said: 'A whole lot of things. Keep him close to you, let him remember on his own but help him.'

Marik slowly took his hands from Fake Ryou's, replacing them in his lap. "Keep him… close."

'Don't let someone so wonderful leave. Remember what you said,' His sweet smile did not waver. 'Everybody loves him. So you have to be better than everybody.'

A weary blink and Fake Ryou was gone. When Marik realized this, he started to reach out but didn't know whose hand he wished to touch. His eyes flickered upwards and, once again, there was Ryou, that sweet face tilted towards the couch cushions, his breathing coming peacefully. Marik watched only a while longer before getting up and heading for his room.

-

The spinning world was, for the first time in his life, felt beneath Ryou Bakura's hands as he lifted himself from where he lay. Dizzy, his arms failed him and he hit the couch again, wincing, not at the pain but from the spinning, constant spinning of the world. He never remembered it spinning before, not in a way that he felt it. He opened both eyes fully and, first reaction, was confused, but only for a split second. The furniture, arranged in a mildly sloppy way and the barren floors, covered with naught but a stained carpet. It wasn't his house and it surely didn't belong to any one of his friends.

Scanning the room with soft chocolate eyes, he came to the door about five feet away from him and the couch. The gold chain was locked across it and so was the lock above the key hole. Ryou tilted his head in question and that movement trigged a small yelp to come from him. He reached his hand back and felt the back of his head, pulled his hand around to his eyes and saw a small spot of blood on his fingertips.

"W-What…" A twinge of pain again. "What happened?" Flashing of a hand on his shoulder. "…" Marik was crying.

"O-Oh my God…" Ryou got up from the couch, ignoring the dull throbbing of pain coming from his head. He stumbled backwards, now fully aware of what had happened and where he was. Marik's apartment. Suddenly the last few minutes of his memory filled his vision and the fear that he'd felt was coming back to him.

"_What if I said I loved you back, Ryou? Could you promise me then that you wouldn't do it again?"_

Ryou shook his head worriedly and headed for the locked door at the head of the apartment. He reached it quickly and grabbed at the doorknob and pulled, temporarily forgetting it was locked in his hurry. His hand never found the locks as it was stopped in it's spot on the door, trapped, palm flat on the door while the other side of his hand was covered with smooth, tanned fingers.

His breath caught in his throat and he looked up, two lilac eyes starring innocently back at him, question and a bit of sadness in those eyes. Marik's hand slid off of Ryou's and it seemed as if he was trying to smile but it didn't come out very well, Ryou thought.

"H-Hello, Ryou," He said, hand at his side now, smile trying so hard to be normal. "I—"

"Get away from me, Marik," Ryou's soft chocolate eyes narrowed as he backed into the door, his head up against it and the little spots of blood running down the chipped door's exterior. "I know what you did, you knocked me out! You tried to keep me here, I'm bleeding on the back of my head, Marik!"

A short gasp escaped Marik and he shook his head, "N-No,"

"How long have I been unconscious?" Ryou yelled now, enraged as the thought crept into his mind that that was what he had been: unconscious, in a house alone with someone who claimed to love him and was insane enough to detain him from leaving. Ryou's tapered eyes watered as he looked at the couch and then back to himself. He shouted: "D-Did you… did you do anything to me…?"

His eyes watched Marik's reaction to his question and he seemed not to get it at first but his eyes widened at last when he understood, shaking his head rapidly and backing up another step. "No! No, I would never… Ryou, I love you. I-I only stopped you from going so we could talk rationally…"

"Rational? There's nothing rational about what you did; _you're_ not rational! And I won't talk with you," He turned around, stopped only at the startling sight of droplets of his blood on the door. He flinched at the memory of the blood on his and Bakura's bed that night in the cabin.

"No, Ryou, please don't!"

Ryou heard Marik's voice shouting as he unlocked the door and before he knew it, the door was shut and he was rammed up against the wall, two strong hands on his shoulders and his eyes looking up into Marik's. Marik relocated one hand to Ryou's chest, keeping him pinned to the wall while his other hand relocked the door and Ryou screamed out in objection.

"This is kidnapping! Let me go! Marik!"

"Just listen to me!" Marik shouted back after the door was secure. He looked back into Ryou's still watery eyes as he flailed under Marik's grip. "You just don't remember is all! You do love me, you said you did and you wouldn't have done all those things if you didn't! I talked to Fake Ryou and he said I should help you remember… So I want to keep you here until you do and we can be together… I-I really love you, Ryou Bakura." He smiled sweetly, the uneasiness gone from his demeanor. His hand slid down Ryou's chest and shirt and made it back to Marik's side.

He waited for Ryou's reaction but Ryou was unable to speak. His bottom lip hung a little below his top, his eyes wide and fear and confusion shone through. After a moment passed and Marik's sweet smile began to drop, Ryou choked out: "F-Fake Ryou?"

A pause before a deep blush on bronze cheeks. "Y-Yes… I… I used to talk to him when I was lonely for you…"

Ryou let that sentence sink in. His eyes watered even more as he looked at the door, the thing he was unable to get to with Marik standing here; he knew Marik was stronger than him. Tears spilled over his cheeks, thousands of them all at once. He's insane, Ryou thought, head in his hands as he slid down the wall. He suddenly felt two arms come around his shoulders and he leant, unintentionally, into Marik's chest and continued crying.

* * *

To be continued… 


	7. No More, No More

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: Guess what? I managed to get all my music back! How, you ask? Well I _am_ a master of technology after all. Don't doubt the Sweetness. -wink-

* * *

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Seven

Nighttime filled all the rooms, filtered in through the cracks uncovered by the drawn curtains and the windows that were left open for whatever reason. Marik Ishtar had closed all the windows but, for some reason, he left the kitchen window open, the one right beside the door to the small laundry room. It stayed open, the stained curtains tied to the side and the moon staring in at the broken apartment on the fifth floor of the building.

Marik Ishtar now lay on the floor, panting heavily but slowly, silently so as not to break the concentration of the room, the world. In the darkness—the moonlight the only thing shining bravely on his tanned face—he looked to the left, towards the kitchen and the moon and saw what he had done to Ryou Bakura. There, on the tile-covered floor of the small eating space was a fragile form, curled up like a beautiful ball was Ryou Bakura who had put up such a fight in his frustration of being kept here.

When Ryou had leant into Marik's body, sobbing and yelling incoherent things, Marik, he admits, lost control of himself. He saw tearing running down that pale-peach face and heard the quiet sniffles and felt Ryou's shaking. It made him so happy, to see all of Ryou Bakura's emotions, to see what Ryou Bakura must've been holding back.

He was so happy and he lost all control, he forgot himself, forgot the situation and leant in and kissed Ryou Bakura. Bravely, passionately and stupidly, he'd thrown caution to the wind and tilted the boy's head upwards and filled Ryou's mouth with his own tongue, wanting and needing to be inside him. He remembered there was only a second of bliss before hard contact was made by Ryou's hand with his cheek. He'd been slapped, hard, and held his cheek that did not ache physically, because of Ryou's smaller size and strength, but psychically, because he did something he should not have.

Ryou had gotten up then and ran to the back of the apartment, unknowingly into Marik's own bedroom. He stopped in his tracks upon coming inside the room, immediately seeing everything that Marik Ishtar held sacred and secret from the rest of the universe. Here, on Marik's walls were thousands of papers, taped, nailed and stapled up, all baring the words:

RYOU BAKURA.

Again and again the name was printed by Marik's own hand. Less frequent on the walls were small sketches, some on notebook paper, others on canvas and all of Ryou Bakura. Smiling, laughing, crying, laying motionless on a bed of flowers. Ryou took this all in at once and it proved almost too much and his tears were renewed. The drawings of himself starred down at him and he looked towards the ground, realizing that this was not the way out.

Marik came into the room after a moment, timidly entering and seeing Ryou in a corner of the room by the closet, huddled up in a corner and upon hearing Marik's entrance, he huddled up even closer to the wall. Marik shrunk at this reaction and swallowed a lump in his throat. He looked up at all the sketches and the close to one hundred pages where he'd written Ryou's name over and over again. The silence was pounding down on him, all except Ryou's weak sobs.

"I-I want to go home," He'd said between sniffles and hugged himself in the dark. He lifted his head from his arms and looked at Marik, silver light from the window over Marik's bed hitting him and taking Marik's breath away. "I want to go home to my brother, Marik, I don't want to stay here with you."

A second passed and Marik took another step into the room causing Ryou to flinch. "I'm sorry I kissed you… But… you make me feel good, Ryou Bakura. You make me feel like holding and kissing you."

"You can't do this," He whispered.

Marik smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "… But I want to…" He took another step. "Why can't I be happy with who I love?"

"I don't love you back!" Ryou shouted, voice dry and desperate. He felt like he'd fight this battle forever.

Another small period of silence and Marik took another step before sitting on his bed, the covers and sheets ruffled and unmade. He looked over his shoulder to Ryou without moving his body and rubbed the white comforter with his hand, a ruffling sound now accompanying Ryou's small sobs.

"You… You might not know this but before I met you, Ryou, I was real lonely. After a while, I told convince myself I could be that way forever but… but then I met you." He turned around fully, eyes concentrated on Ryou. "And you said my name and you invited me to sit with you. And then you said you loved me and now I love you. It's a weird way to work but I'm glad it does work like this.

"Now the only think I don't like about it is that you don't even remember saying you love me. … Ryou? You truly don't remember, not even a little bit?"

Ryou's voice cracked under the pressure but he cleared his throat and looked Marik in the eyes. "I can't remember what I never said."

"Stop saying that!" It was a split second before Marik got on his feet and was starring down at Ryou who quivered now but tried not to let his fear become too apparent. Marik's narrowed eyes softened immediately and he shook his head. "Don't say that Ryou, I want you to remember and I'm going to help you but please… don't say you never loved me, it… it hurts."

"Don't tell me about being hurt! I'm being held hostage by a psychotic person who swears that I love them!"

"Ryou…"

"And I never did! I never gave one _hint_ that I valued you for anything more than a friend! And now I regret every second I spent with you, I wish I could forget your name!"

"Stop it, Ryou! Stop it!"

He lost control again. Before either of them knew it, Marik was on the floor, on top of Ryou, his hands clutching both of the smaller teen's shoulders and his nails digging into the cream-colored sweater he wore. Ryou screamed again, a shrill and helpless sound in the quiet of the building. He fought, vainly, against the grip and Marik's weight pushing him into the floor. Sandy blonde hair met Ryou's silver locks as Marik leaned down, his hands slipping from Ryou's slim shoulders and his breath, ragged and hard, in Ryou's ear. He whispered: "Why can't you accept me?"

Ryou stopped fighting so hard when he realized Marik was no longer hurting him. Their breathing came as one, both tired of screaming at one another and tired of the rawness that came to their throats when they cried. Marik let his hands slide to rest on the floor beside Ryou's hips and inhaled the strawberry scent of his hair. A faint smile appeared on his lips when Ryou didn't fight his body going limp on top of the boy's. Ryou looked away, inadvertently shaking Marik's hair out of his eyes.

"I don't accept what I don't acknowledge… Marik," He looked back at him and shifted his weight. "Why can't I go home? I'll forget about what happened here, I won't tell anyone if you let me go now…"

Marik sat up, straddling Ryou's hips but Ryou didn't seem to care too much. He reached his tanned hands up to cup the boy's pale face. His smile didn't return, it was merely a look of question that he gave to Ryou. "Why don't you at least offer to be friends like…?"

There was a short laugh that Ryou did not mean to let out. "Like in the movies? Or television? Because we're not on a screen, Marik. You're hurting me. You're keeping me from someone I…"

"I'm sorry," Marik murmured, his hands moving down to that elegant neck. "But I won't let you go until you love me."

Now as he looked over to Ryou's small from, huddled by the corner in the kitchen, on the other side of the refrigerator, he wished he hadn't been so rough with him even if that was the only way to keep him quiet. Actually, Marik thought, he would've wanted Ryou to be loud. For some reason he liked hearing Ryou's scream, his protest; flip side to that coin, he hated knowing Ryou was screaming in protest of their love. Marik wanted, for a brief moment, to kiss Ryou again but didn't.

Instead, he was forced to knock him unconscious again. He knew that Ryou would only try to escape again the second he woke up so Marik Ishtar was very clever and went downstairs to the Superintendent's Office on the first floor of the building. He passed all the other floors and their were a few people going into their own apartments, mostly young people coming back from a date or some such. Marik noted that it _was_ late, nearly midnight.

When he arrived in the office, the desk was occupied by a young woman, and Marik was taken aback for a moment. She resembled Ms. Sinclair almost too much, those thin-framed glasses poised on the tip of her nose and a slim figure adorned in a professional attire. This woman's black hair was wrapped tightly in a bun on the back of her head and it didn't move as she tilted her head up to greet Marik.

"Can I help you?" She asked, not automatically but kind, almost friendly, as if Marik was her next-door neighbor.

Marik was a bit confused; this woman was not the Superintendent he was familiar with. "D-Do you know where Mr. Ives is?"

"Oh," She folded her hands across one another. "I'm sorry, he's on vacation this weekend. I'm Madison, his niece; I'm just a substitute for a few days. But maybe I can help you anyway,"

His eyes flickered to the door behind Madison's desk. "Yes… I was wondering if you had any… any chains. From the Utility Closet back there…"

She looked surprised, just as Marik predicted she would. "Chains?"

"The door to the small fuse box on my floor… Everyone's been complaining about how they can never keep it closed so they sent me down here to get something to keep it closed with… A-A chain."

Madison smiled and nodded, seeming to understand his predicament. Marik was so happy that his lie worked. She stood from her seat and walked to the door behind the desk and opened it with a key on her belt. It opened and she went in, not bothering to close it behind her. A moment later, she exited with something in her hands. Madison looked up at Marik, eyebrows raised. "Well, sorry, no chains. There's rope, though, if you can make do with this…"

"I can, thank you," He said, forcing a smile as he took the rope from her hands. He began to walk out and before he reached the threshold, she called out to him.

"Wait a minute; what's your name?"

His body turned rigid at hearing this question. He didn't turn around. "M-Marik,"

"… Alright," She smiled, waving him off. "See you around, Marik,"

He gave a barely visible nod and shuffled out of the office, eager to get back to Ryou. When he did arrive back in his apartment he feared, for a brief second, that Ryou had already woken up and gone off. But no, there he was, breathing angelically on Marik's bed right where he had left him. Before tying him up, Marik saw to the boy's wound on the back of his head. Most of the bleeding had stopped but Marik bandaged it anyway, wrapping a bandage around the upper part of his head and tying it on his forehead.

Whether he merely wanted to touch Ryou Bakura or whether he wanted to help him was not clear and there may not be a single answer. The bandaging took all of five minutes and directly after that, Marik got the rope he had obtained and went into the kitchen with Ryou. There was an rather old space heater on the other side of the refrigerator and Marik found it a good place to keep his love. He tied the rope around both Ryou's hands and around a bar of the small furnace.

And that's where he was. Marik smiled in the shadows, trying to breath in time with Ryou.

-

_In the darkness_ _there were scattered pictures, all torn from a pretty picture book. The picture book was Ryou Bakura's favorite. It was night-blue with gold star stickers decorating the front and back, cursive written on the front in simple black. The words read, sweetly:_

_MEMORIES._

_Ryou opened his book with a placid expression to find pictures of him and his twin brother. From Ryou's first remembrance, there was a picture. For every event, every blink that he found special, there was the picture, right here in his picture book. He flipped through the pages, with every turn seeing how he and his brother grew and looked at different ages and times. Halloweens, Christmases, birthdays and first days of school, both boys looked at each of and smiled in the photos, so happy. _

_Ryou Bakura flipped another page and his placid expression failed to change though he was surprised. A whole page was missing. He looked at the previous page, the last picture recorded and saw him and his twin looking at each other in front of a brightly lit Christmas tree. Now, to the page past the blank one. The next picture was him and his twin looking at each other in front of a brightly lit Christmas tree. Ryou stopped._

_That whole page missing was a year. A year of memories gone missing. Flipping the pages back and forth. Their 13th Christmas. Flip. Their 14th Christmas. In their thirteenth year, they looked at each other like brothers did, happy and innocent, glad to be receiving gifts and wanting to see what the other had obtained. Their fourteenth year, Ryou looked at the picture closely and noticed the way they were standing together was different._

_The way his brother looked at him was different. Of course, no one but him would notice this. The change was too small but it was a change. Ryou let the picture book slip from his hands and fall to the floor._

"_Stop it!"_

_Ryou's eyes widened and he jumped up from the couch, immediately beginning to run down the hallway. One hallway, two, three, never ending corridors he ran through, not knowing where to._

"_Please, Bakura, don't!"_

_He ran faster, the screams pounding in his ears, shrill cries of pain and anguish. His own screams. Was he screaming? The hallways continued, going on forever and ever. He looked down, now panting and still hearing the cries of distress. The ground was covered in negative pictures, all blank. The screams got louder._

_Ryou knelt down, rummaging through all the negatives and as he did, the sounds got louder and more desperate. Photos were thrown out of the way and his hand found one that wasn't blank. Inside the picture two boys moved in the darkness, the light coming in from the window in the background creating a fiery blue halo around their forms._

_Ryou watched himself underneath his brother, saw himself crying as Bakura's already naked form was undressing him._

"_Dammit, Ry, stop shouting," He whispered harshly, pushing his hand down over his younger brother's mouth. Ryou continued to cry, thrashing around under his brother's weight. Bakura leant down into the boy's ear and said: "Ry, come on… Mom and dad are in the other room, they'll hear you."_

"_Please," Ryou begged. "Please, Bakura, don't you listen to me? I don't want to do this, I don't,"_

_Bakura smirked, nuzzling into his brother's hair. "You say that now but after a while, you'll love it. I already know that you love me, Ry, so why don't you want to show it? I'm willing to show you," As he spoke, he never let go of Ryou's shoulders and he never stopped unzipping his jeans._

"_I-I do love you… But I just can't; I'm not ready_—"

"_But you are ready to suck on the teacher, isn't that right?"_

_Ryou shrunk then at his brother's disgusted tone. A moment of silence and he whispered so low that he almost mouthed the words. " You… you love me?"_

_His elder brother's grip softened and his eyes shifted from Ryou's exposed lower half to Ryou's eyes that were wet and red. Bakura shook his head. "I'm not going to tell you, I'm going to show you."_

_In the middle of the night, Ryou's face twisted._

_A scream._

_Dire need of release._

"_No more, no more,"_

_Ryou dropped the photo and his vision was blinded with a blood-stained sheet._

His breath hitched and suddenly, two chocolate eyes were open to greet the world but he did not think of it as a greeting but as a nightmare. Though for some reason it did not seem as dark and gloomy as it was when Ryou had first gone to sleep.

Wait, he told himself.

He hadn't _gone_ to sleep.

Immediately an alarm went off inside him and he started to get up but fell right back down to where he had been laying. Ryou turned his head around and realized his hands were bound to the space heater he was sitting next to. He pulled and tugged with both hands but nothing would budge. An upset cry came from his throat but he didn't recognize it as his own, momentarily thinking it sounded as if the sound had come from a wounded animal.

But that's what he was. A wounded animal; small and helpless.

He gazed up again and saw, through the open kitchen window, that the sun was climbing up over the horizon to meet the day just as his eyes had only a moment ago. Birds were chirping at the window and in trees down below. Ryou felt like crying. Why was the world so happy when he was so miserable, chained like some dog in the home of a psychopath?

A sound came from the threshold connecting the kitchen to the living room and Ryou detested the thought of looking over but did it anyway.

"I-I'm glad you're up," Marik's timid voice reached his ears and Ryou hated it. "I knew you'd be upset if you woke up in my bed so I decided you should sleep in here…"

Ryou huddled against the space heater, trying to show the man before him that he wanted nothing to do with him. When Marik looked at him with his same questioning and innocent stare, Ryou's face turned beet red and he screamed. For lack of having anything to say and not wanting to give in to crying, he screamed at the top of his lungs, again and again. He screamed until his voice was raw and he couldn't speak.

* * *

To be continued… 


	8. He Said

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: Well, as you can see, the rating for this fic has moved up to M. I hope that's not a problem for anyone, I just think it's appropriate for this and future chapters…

* * *

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Eight

Bakura had stolen his brother's address book and he had no regrets about it. It was early morning now, but maybe not so early, not from his point of view. The sky had already reddened and the stars wilted like dying flowers, losing their brilliance and fading under the wonder of the morning sun. All night long, Bakura had been on edge. Every hour that passed without a key entering the lock, every moment he did not hear Ryou's melodic voice… He'd gone near crazy, wanted to see where Ryou was, wanted to know if he was alright.

His mind raced to many different places, different faces and people and sounds; he thought of places his brother might be but no where made more sense than where he had said he was going. Marik Ishtar's house. When this thought hit Bakura, he wondered momentarily if Ryou decided to spend the night over their for whatever reason. He'd done it before. And it was no big deal, friends sleep over their friends' houses.

Right?

Right?

Bakura kept asking himself that, kept trying to convince himself that it was alright but he could never reach the point of composure. He finally came to the one thing he did not want to acknowledge. Did not, did not, did not want to recognize the possibility that…

They had gotten into a fight, hadn't they? Bakura nodded, yes. And Ryou was so upset at him for bringing up all the things throughout their relationship that they tried to ignore. He was upset and suddenly off he went with Marik Ishtar to his house and he is gone the entire night, no phone call, no nothing to tell him about his plans. Bakura almost broke down at the thought of Ryou wanting silent revenge against him.

And what was the one thing that got to Bakura most? Ryou knew the answer. Bakura did not want to believe that Ryou might've slept with Marik Ishtar just out of spite. It was bad enough with the teachers but sleeping with this boy, Marik, seemed to sting much worse.

So Bakura stole Ryou's address book from inside his drawer and opened it, finding all these numbers; so many that he did not know where to start. He flipped to the Is and the Ms but _Marik Ishtar_ was no where. Bakura decided to call on Ryou's other friends to see if perhaps they had Marik's number somewhere in their memory banks or computer files. Somewhere, somewhere, it has to be somewhere.

"Marik… Ishtar?" Came the girl's voice from the other end of the line. Her tone was low, lethargic with a hint of annoyance. Bakura thought at first he had woken her up but, as the conversation dragged on and her begrudging way of speaking irked his already troubled mind, he found he didn't care.

"Yes, Marik Ishtar," His voice was tight. "Ryou's stayed over his house all night, I need his number."

"Well I don't know a Marik Ishtar; I wasn't even aware there was a Marik going to this school. Sorry," Her apology was unsympathetic and Bakura had had enough of Ryou's petty friends. He slammed the receiver down on the cradle and got up from his seat, heading down the hallway and grabbing a ring of keys as he closed the front door of the house behind him.

When neither of their parents were at home and went away for long periods of time, they simply rented cars wherever they were going and left the family car in the garage, thinking that it would be safe there. Neither of them knew that Bakura had long since had his driver's license nor did they know that often Bakura took his younger brother out for rides in the car. Maybe that was because he always made sure to refill the tank after every ride. But a more likely possibility, Bakura thought to himself, is that neither of them cared enough to pay attention to things like that.

"Yeah," he nodded to himself as his foot pressed down on the accelerator and the wind whistled past the car. "That's probably it."

Bakura didn't wish to waste anymore time calling friends or trying to seek phone numbers. His brother had been gone since early evening yesterday and with no phone call and no way to get to Marik Ishtar's house or call, he could only think of one place to go.

He was there fast enough, barely traveling at the speed limit and opened the car door, closing it behind him as he jumped onto the curb and walked into the building. The floors were glossy and lights shining from every lamp and light bulb. People walked around, most of them in blue uniforms though some were clothed in street-wear, those who were grimacing, complaining the handcuffs were too tight.

Bakura walked pass them all and to the back of the fluorescently lit room where a row of desks behind glass screens stayed, people in blue uniforms operating behind each one.

A man looked up upon hearing Bakura's incoming footsteps. His face was aged, not like some of the other officers who were young and could handle the more intimidating criminals. His mustache moved when he spoke and the badge he wore read: C. Bailey. Bakura stood before the man and he asked curtly: "Yes?"

"I want to report a missing person," There was a bit of urgency in Bakura's voice. Normally he would not want anyone to hear that much anxiety in anything he said but it was strange to find out that now he did not care.

"A family member?"

He nodded, rapidly reverted back to a child. He felt like one now, his brother missing, his soul mate, the one he wished to share everything with. "My brother; Ryou. He hasn't called or anything, he's not like that, he would've told me what he was going to do…"

"Hold on, hold on," A trace of annoyance made it into C. Bailey's voice as he scribbled something down on a notepad. Bakura suddenly felt like punching him but held on to his temper just a little bit longer. "When was the last time you saw your brother?"

"Ah… Last night, around five,"

There was a pause. C. Bailey shook his head, slowly at first and then he sighed. "Sorry, but the person must be absent for twenty-four hours before a missing persons report can be filed."

"B… But that's ridiculous, he's missing now and in nine hours, he'll still be missing, it doesn't matter what time it is—"

"That's the law, there's nothing I can do about it. You'll just have to wait."

The fresh air of the morning hit his face as the door to the police station opened and he got back into his car, having gotten out of the building so fast so as not to let everyone see his oncoming rush of tears. He held them in on the street and the car door closed behind him; he was in the drivers seat, his forehead touching the cool leather of the steering wheel. What was happening to him? He had never cried so much before, hardly at all.

Maybe this was what not having Ryou did to him? Took away his strength? Then what was he without Ryou?

Nothing, he answered, the tears continuing to fall down his cheeks and dropping onto his jeans, the droplets beginning to come faster and faster to the point that he wasn't sure it was him crying but both he and his brother. He wished that he was worrying in vain. He wished that Ryou had decided to only sleep over Marik's house for the night, maybe he was on his way home already.

"That's not true…" He sobbed harder, hands smearing the wetness from his eyes but always, always they came back. Ryou was not here, of course they came back. "That's not true! Why am I torturing myself like this, I know he's not okay, I know something's happening to him!"

Faster, faster.

He gripped the steering wheel. His vision was blurred.

"_I'm not ready,"_

"I'm not ready either!" Bakura's heart broke and his breath was not coming fast enough to sustain him and everything that collapsed inside him. He shouted out: "Where are you, Ryou? _Ryou_! Please, tell me where you are!"

"_Why won't you stop… Just stop…"_

Faster, faster.

-

Ryou was on the floor of the kitchen, his hands over his head, tied to the space heater beside him. All the screaming had turned his face red, shriveled his lungs and he'd lost all his breath, now laying still to regain it. His chest moved rhythmically up and down, up and down. He was amazed for some reason. Maybe it was how calm Marik could be in one moment and how utterly frantic he could be the next. For instance, he noted, when he began yelling, all Marik did was close the windows.

After that and Ryou continued in his tantrum, Marik came and sat down in front of the boy, hands folded under his chin and lavender eyes intense on his body. He kept screaming and flailing and Marik watched, a light going off behind his eyes; had he been enjoying it?

Ryou didn't know how to answer his own question, he didn't know how to answer anything anymore. Very little made sense here, in this new world. It seemed that's what Marik Ishtar had created for the both of them. A new world, strange and different to anyone else, separate, built for one purpose and one purpose only.

What was that purpose?

He knew what it was. He knew what it was but he did not wish to say it, to even acknowledge it. Ryou would rather it be kept a secret even from his own self who still wished to know. So was he divided into two?

Bakura, Ryou thought suddenly.

The word popped into his head from no where and suddenly he saw his big brother in his mind: standing across from him, screaming at him, his face red. Ryou's body was washed over with a wave of guilt and he let himself be carried away by it. The last thing his brother asked of him was to prove his love. And Ryou walked away.

"_Show me that you're worth all the torment this has put me through, show me that you love me!"_

Ryou starred into the ceiling, eyes stoic and wide, his mouth hanging open just a bit. He thought: I practically said no. He asked me to prove my love and I walked away. I said no… I said no…

"_You say that now but after a while, you'll love it. I already know that you love me, Ry, so why don't you want to show it? I'm willing to show you," _

I said no that first time, too.

Ryou's chest rose and fell; up and down, up and down.

And after everything he's done for me, after everything he's put up with, I said no again…

"Ah…" Ryou didn't realize that was his voice. That small sound again, that small helpless animal chained and distraught again, that's what he was and that's how he was meant to be. Here, in this new world, that's how it was. Wasn't it? Ryou's eyebrows knitted together and his mouth opened but all he could do was make that noise. He began to whimper—fear of himself?—and the sound must've carried throughout the small apartment.

The next sound he heard was not his own but Marik's. His captor walked in through the threshold, lilac orbs wide and confused at the small sounds of misery coming from the boy's mouth. He walked in completely, looking down at Ryou and kneeling by him but Ryou did not notice until a moment later when the screaming of his fourteen-year-old self stopped.

"M-Marik," He turned his head to the tanned teenage beside him.

He nodded. "What is it? What's wrong?"

A beat of thought. Ryou's head turned toward the ceiling, his eyes so familiar with the intricate tiled patterns. His hands moved and he pulled himself into a sitting position though it was highly uncomfortable. His eyes met Marik's. "I-I have to go to the bathroom…"

He watched Marik's expression and it did not look denying. Marik looked down at the floor, eyeballs moving from side to side, figuring something out. Ryou waiting, breath held. Marik lifted his head and suddenly leant forward over the smaller teen and began to untie the ropes, his fingers working like spiders mending their broken webs. Ryou felt the tenderness in his fleeting touches and finally his wrists dropped, freed. Marik got up slowly and took a step backwards and finally stood at the entrance of the kitchen, his back to the wall. He pointed down the small hallway. "Come on,"

Ryou, though now used to being on the ground, found his legs strong when called upon and not weak as he'd hoped they wouldn't be. In this new world there was at least something he could remember as being on his side. He made his way to the threshold where Marik stood and tensed his body, walking straight down the hallway, only giving the front door a passing glance.

Marik followed him and opened the door to the bathroom, allowing Ryou to go inside.

"Can I…" Ryou stopped his sentence in the middle of it, unsure of how to proceed. Marik watched him attentively and that small gesture gave Ryou the strength of mind to go on. "I want to take a shower as well…"

There was a moment of silence and Marik nodded. "Alright, go ahead," He said, almost shyly and a faint redness could be seen staining his cheeks as he closed the door all but one inch, turning his back then to look out into the living room.

In a few minutes, Ryou turned on the showerhead and the water began to run down into the tub and against the glass of the shower door creating a rapid tapping echo. Ryou looked at the door and the one inch opening, out of which he could see Marik's back, still turned. A sigh and Ryou cursed himself for being this way, this afraid of what would happen if he undressed himself in Marik's home.

To be this bare, this vulnerable in this new world seemed a dangerous risk and he was not sure if he wanted to risk everything for a shower. But maybe this was not a shower, maybe it was him showing Marik and the new world that he was not afraid.

_The picture book opened._

Ryou shut his eyes against the fear within him and stepped into the shower, closing the glass door and leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor.

-

The tapping sound was terrible. Terrible, only because of what they implied and what they promised and all the things they teased Marik with. Marik hated those small raps on the glass door and he hated the fact that there was so much between him and Ryou Bakura's skin.

Marik's eyelids drooped and he made sure his tired sigh was silent. He'd been having thoughts like that lately. Since Ryou entered his home, he'd been having thoughts like that all the time. He tried desperately to tell himself that these feelings and desires were normal, especially when something like Ryou Bakura practically fell into his lap. It was normal to want to hold and kiss and penetrate that sweet thing but maybe, he thought in the back of his mind, maybe he did not want to be normal with Ryou. He did not want to hurt him, he just wanted to be with him, to hear the words that _he_ felt reciprocated.

I love you, I love you.

Was that so bad to want to hear? And now as the tapping grew louder, he closed his eyes, imagining the soaped-up washcloth moving all over Ryou's body, scrubbing lightly and then violently on different sections on his body. It was that same question again. To be gentle or rough with Ryou Bakura?

I want to be rough, he thought with suppressed moan.

He opened his eyes again and felt that Ryou would be fine in the shower by himself. He went into his room, diagonal from the bathroom door, and sat on the bed, the ruffled comforter beneath him. A sigh escaped him and he wondered what he would do next to help Ryou Bakura remember what he said. Marik's will to endure the temptations of Ryou's body were wearing very thin and he wanted Ryou's love _now_.

Marik opened his eyes and immediately scooted to the top of the bed, his head almost hitting the windowsill above the headboard. Fake Ryou had been hovering over him whilst his eyes were closed and he barely had time to calm himself before panic took over. Once he realized who it was, his eyes moved lower and his breath held in his chest at the sight before him.

Fake Ryou's clothes were gone, all of them, and there he stood at the end of the bed, a sweet smile plastered on his beautifully copied face, his hands clasped in each other behind his back. He tilted his head, his eyes bright and alert in the sun that drifted through the window.

'Marik,' he said, chirping the word.

"What…" Marik's eyes could not tear themselves away from that body. "Where are your clothes?" He asked, breathlessly.

'Gone,' Fake Ryou smiled again and made his way from the foot of the bed to the side, standing in front of Marik who had turned around, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed. The Fake One bent over a little and took both of Marik's hands in his own, bringing them up to his hips and setting them there, his hands guiding Marik's around the silky waist.

Marik watched attentively as his hands were being led to hold the boy's thighs, his hands feeling and teasing the soft skin between both legs. "I-I… Ryou's in the shower, he—"

'Marik,' Fake Ryou giggled light-heartedly, spreading his legs and leaning foreword. 'Marik, Marik Ishtar. What's wrong?'

He looked up, his trance broken for the moment. He gave the other one a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

'I mean…' The Fake One removed his hands from Marik's and pushed the taller teenager until he was flat on his back and Fake Ryou was over him. He bent down, his mouth now at Marik's ear and he whispered in between bites and kisses: 'I mean you do not look very happy. I'm here just for you, for you to enjoy and do anything you want with. That's what I'm _here_ for, isn't that right, Marik Ishtar?'

Marik's eyes widened and he struggled to get up but Fake Ryou kept him pinned down. He grabbed Marik's hand and pushed it up to his navel and then teasingly slid it down to lead tanned fingers over a pale length. Marik heard his voice as a tiny whisper. "W-What you're… here for?"

Fake Ryou closed his eyes and leaned back again, moving Marik's head so he could have better access at the teen's neck. 'Yes,' he said listlessly. 'I'm here for you when Ryou Bakura does not wish for you to enter him. You created me, you should _know_… that I am stretched and ready for you all the time; I am your _doll_, Ishtar. Play with me and use me as you see fit…'

"N-No, I can't—"

'Shh. If it helps you, think of me as the real thing…' He murmured into Marik's ear, covering the tanned boy's mouth with his own.

* * *

To be continued… 


	9. And Sound Minds

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: -yawn-

* * *

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Nine

_He took the photo and placed it into the desired slot in the picture book. His eyes burned red as he starred at it but he could not tear his eyes away. That night, no matter how much he would like to forget and how much he had forgotten it, it was still a memory and an important one and it belonged in the picture book along with all else that he held dear._

_Ryou ran his pale fingers over the other empty spaces in question. What could he not remember? What was not set in front of him that needed to be there? _

_And why was he so set on collecting the missing pieces now?_

_His chocolaty eyes came to a close and he shut the picture book. Thinking back, now even in his mind, there were blank spots, not just in the picture book. But maybe the picture book was his mind, Ryou thought to himself, the contemplation echoing throughout the house in which he inhabited for this one moment._

_There was, of course, some things that he did remember but maybe did not wish to remind himself of them. But that was what this was about. Being reminded of them, their love and how, because of him, it was shattered._

_Could such a pure love be shattered so easily?_

_It was not so pure, he told himself though he wasn't sure if he was talking or listening. Suddenly his eyes opened. It was the motor of a car. He looked around swiftly but saw nothing to match what he heard. And from the ceiling floated a photograph that landed delicately into his lap. It was not blank._

_He held it up and looked inside to see a shiny red sports car, leaving his home. Two people were inside and they were soon out of sight, the dust from the road covering their tracks. When they were no longer seen, the picture moved inside the home after the sun went down and into the bedroom of his mother and father._

"_Come on," He heard a familiar voice say and soon saw his fifteen-year-old big brother in the doorway, leading his own hand. _

_Ryou saw himself protesting entering the room. "'Kura, we can't; we're not allowed to be in their bedroom," His objections diminished and soon were completely forgotten about as his brother pulled the boy into the large bed and all went silent with the exception of growls and moans._

_Time kept moving and the moon rose over the world. Ryou's tired panting had calmed soon and he relaxed in his brother's arms, their chests rising and falling as one. The rhythm of the night filled the younger one's ears and his eyelids drifted shut but flew open again as he heard the words: "I want to tell them,"_

_He looked up, finding Bakura's brown eyes alert and bright in the darkness, transfixed on him. Ryou shifted in his brother's embrace. "W-What do you mean?"_

"_I want…" He paused. "I want to tell our parents that we've fallen in love…"_

_Ryou looked at his near look-alike for a long time. Neither gaze faltered and finally Ryou was the one to turn away, burying himself into his brother's chest, a small snicker escaping his lips. "Bakura." Was all he said._

_Said twin's eyes narrowed and he lifted his brother higher onto the pillow so that they were once again facing each other. "What? It's not funny; I want to tell them how I feel about you. Don't you think they should know?" When Ryou didn't reply, he continued. "Isn't this something you're happy about?"_

_Finally, a sigh. "I am happy about it, but… but this isn't the type of thing you tell your parents."_

_Bakura stopped for a second and then sat up, his bare back flat on the headboard. "You're talking about the fact that we're brothers. Who cares?"_

"_Everybody will," He said simply._

"_Well who the hell cares about everybody?" Bakura's voice went into another pitch and he cleared his throat, trying it again when Ryou looked at him worriedly. "I mean it's not like their opinion matters. What they think won't ever change my feelings for you, Ry. But I don't want to hide it anymore… I love you and it makes me feel like telling people…"_

_Ryou's doe eyes were locked with his brother's darker ones. He said nothing until he returned to his previous position of laying down, head in his brother's lap. "There are some things…" he whispered, "that shouldn't be told, Bakura… No matter how it makes you feel."_

"… _H… How can you say that, Ryou?" Bakura swallowed the anger and disappointment in his voice._

"…"

"_Don't you love me…?"_

"…"

_The picture was slipped into it's correct spot by a boy whose eyes were flooded with tears._

_The picture book stayed open to torment him._

Ryou Bakura dropped the rag he was using and was filled with a sharp intake of breath. He did not remember falling asleep. But he supposed he must've drifted off as he stood there with the warm and relaxing water running down his back and his legs. He shook away the remnants of his daydream and turned the shower off, taking a towel off of the rack before he exited the stall and wrapping it around his waist.

The mirror over the sink was clouded with fog and he wondered how long he'd been in the shower. His skin was not too wrinkled, he noted as he looked at his fingertips, so it could not have been more than a five or six minutes. If it had been longer, he knew he would've heard from Marik. That's when he sighed, remembering where he was and what was going on outside the comforting warmth of the shower stall.

He looked between the crack of the door but did not see Marik's form standing in front. Ryou pushed it open and looked out into the hallway, seeing no one still. Before his next thought came, he heard a small mutter coming from somewhere in the vicinity. He looked up, unaware that a room was right across the hall, hidden almost by the door to the closet.

Ryou took a step out of the bathroom, the carpet feeling better on his bare feet than the cold linoleum. He touched the doorframe with his hand, steadying himself as he peeked in, looking onto the bed where he witnessed a tanned, bare back, turned to him. The figure in question, which he knew to be Marik Ishtar, was half naked, his shirt cast to the floor and his pants down by his ankles; the only thing attached were his boxer shorts, half of them lowered and revealing his hip.

Murmurs and moans alternated in the room, Marik's sweat-covered back glistening in the early afternoon sun. Ryou, for some reason, could not tear his eyes away from something he was not sure of.

-

An amused giggle came from Fake Ryou as his hands found their way back to the band of Marik Ishtar's boxer shorts, lifting them from the tanned skin and touching the place where they once rested. While one pale hand teased the skin there, his other traveled upwards, to the back of Marik's head and tangled itself in the blonde locks. Marik leaned in again, pressing his lips to the Fake One's and gently prying them open, making a way for his tongue to proceed inside.

Fake Ryou responded immediately, and while their mouths were busy, exploring each other and tasting the sweet inner flavors, Marik's hand felt downwards, caressing the silky curves of the hallucination's body. He wondered if Fake Ryou was indeed a hallucination like he had previously said, his creation.

Marik was not sure what he was now; how could he feel and kiss and taste a dream? It was true, at first, Fake Ryou was there whenever he called but then he came on his own. And he made him feel good, like someone out of everybody was wanting him. Marik could not deny that he was growing tired of waiting for Ryou Bakura to love him though his feelings would remain. Fake Ryou produced everything he wanted from the actual Ryou.

But did he want to take it?

When the need for air became apparent, Marik broke away from Fake Ryou and, panting, looked into those brown, doe eyes that were so familiar and so beautiful. Before he was able to say anything, he felt his hand being led on again and watched as Fake Ryou's legs parted and Marik's hand found it's way between them.

'It's hard to be so patient when you're craving release, isn't it, Ishtar? Marik?' His smile returned and he gently pushed one of Marik's fingertips inside himself, forcing Marik to shudder and press a little further. The Fake One lifted his other leg and rested it on Marik's hip, pulling him closer. 'What are you waiting for?' he asked.

Marik opened his lavender eyes with some difficultly, every part of him demanding he get on with it. He choked out: "Will it feel like Ryou…?"

Fake Ryou tilted his head. 'Of course. As long as you want it to…' He leaned in again but stopped, just a millimeter away from Marik's lips. His smile turned grim for a spilt second then reverted back to that child-like smirk. He whispered: 'He's here.'

A questioning stare from Marik before he followed Fake Ryou's eyes and saw Ryou Bakura standing in the doorway, dripping wet with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and a puzzled look on his face. Marik gasped and looked back to where his dream had lain but he was gone. The tanned teenager looked back towards Ryou and pulled up his boxer shorts, now deeply blushing. "H-Hello…" he muttered.

Ryou stood there, seeming to be in a trance, his eyes following Marik's movements to gather his pants and slip back into them.

"What…" Ryou said after a few moments of Marik redressing himself in silence, the blush on his cheeks never wavering. "What were… you doing?"

Marik pondered this question as he pulled his t-shirt back over his head and sat on the edge of the bed, facing Ryou. He determined that he really didn't know. Towards the end as Marik was readying himself to enter Fake Ryou, he lost all track of conventional thought and the only thing that registered in his mind was that Ryou was there, offering himself to him. But Ryou hadn't been there, had he? No.

Marik sighed, getting up from the bed and wandering to the closet in his room, opening it and searching through, leaving Ryou's question unanswered. He finally came out with two hangers, one holding a large blue shirt and the other holding a pair of jeans. Marik turned to the boy, lifting the hangers languidly. "These are for you. If you want to wear them… but you don't have any other clothes, do you?"

A pause and then Ryou's voice held a bit of venom. "Well, I wasn't planning to stay for more then a few hours."

It was as if Marik expected to hear such a thing and it did not phase him one bit. He simply handed over the two hooks to Ryou and shut the door gently behind himself as he gave the boy a bit of privacy to change. Less than two minutes passed before the door opened and Ryou emerged, a perturbed look on his face and Marik wondered what was wrong now. He gave the outfit a glance over and determined that they were big for Ryou. They dwarfed him but there was really nothing he could do about it.

Suddenly a sound came, a low rumble and Ryou's face turned the lightest shade of pink. He folded his arms over his stomach and looked away, muttering something. When Marik told him that he hadn't heard what the boy had said, Ryou reiterated. "I-I said I'm hungry…"

"… Oh," Marik scratched the back of his head and looked around.

-

Ten minutes later, Ryou Bakura was sitting on the living room couch, waiting patiently while his captor busied himself in the kitchen, making something. Ryou occasionally looked at the front door but he did it stoically. There was really no way he could get out, if he tried to make a run for it, Marik would easily catch him and possibly hurt him. He didn't want to be unconscious anymore, not in this house with _him_.

He sighed audibly and leaned backwards into the cushions. How could he have forgotten his hunger for so long? It'd been almost a whole day since he'd eaten anything, probably more than a day. Ryou found that the longer he stayed here, the less normal and coherent his thoughts became. Marik was indeed driving him mad but he didn't want to lose this one thing he valued, his sanity. If he lost that, then there would surely be no hope. Right now he thought himself at an advantage despite Marik's obvious dominance over him. He had something Marik Ishtar did not. A sound mind.

Suddenly, said teenager was seated beside him and with a plate of spaghetti in his hand. Marik handed it over to Ryou and Ryou didn't spare a breath before he began to eat, now fully aware of his hunger.

"Ah… S-Slow down…" Marik warned weakly, his eyes following Ryou's movements. Ryou looked up at him and gave Marik a wavering glare but did slow down, beginning to chew like a normal person who hadn't been starved though he wished Marik would leave him alone. They sat in silence for the better half of Ryou's meal and as he got to the end, Ryou noticed something that made him uncomfortable.

He asked, idly: "Aren't you going to eat something?"

Marik looked surprised by this question. He looked away briefly. "No, I'm not hungry… Um, thank you for asking,"

"I wasn't asking you because I was worried," Ryou's eyebrows knitted together. He swallowed and then continued. "I want you to eat because… because then maybe you'd seem more human, I guess."

"… Human?" There was a long pause and Ryou never stopped eating during it. He guessed Marik was speechless and he didn't feel like explaining until he had finished. Finally he set the plate down next to him and glanced back at Marik.

"You don't seem human. Humans, they… there's something in everyone that makes them care, even just a little, about what's happening to someone else. If they hurt someone, they feel a little regret, the normal ones. But you don't seem to feel any regret about what you're doing to me. So, you couldn't be human…"

"I do care!" He shouted, his bottom lip trembling. He put a hand on Ryou's but the boy recoiled, glaring at him.

"Don't touch me,"

Marik swallowed a lump in his throat. "B-But I do care; you're all I think about, I love you more than you could possibly know, Ryou Bakura!"

Ryou's voice gained an edge. "There's a thin line between love and obsession…" He paused, his brown eyes widening a little. Which side of the line was Bakura on?

He wasn't given time to continue this thought because he felt Marik Ishtar leaning on his shoulder. He tried to shrink away from Marik's body but couldn't as the teen's arm came around his waist and held him in place. Ryou began to panic and was ready to try and flail his way out of this situation but once again Marik stopped him, whispering into his ear: "Do you want to know what I was doing… in my room, Ryou?"

Ryou had forgotten about that. He said nothing but nodded gently, still not comfortable in Marik's embrace. Marik continued: "I was going to make love to Fake Ryou… He kept pushing for me to do it so I finally gave in, but we didn't go all the way. B-Before he noticed you, Ryou, he told me that he was my doll and that I could do whatever I wanted with him." He paused. "I asked him if it would feel like having sex with you and he said yes… But how could I know that unless we've…?"

When Marik looked up to check Ryou's reaction, the boy's eyes were looking straight ahead, though they brimmed with tears, all on the verge of falling with one movement. Ryou began to shake his head, slowly, and the tears fell. He continued to shake his head and finally he produced the word: "No…"

"But why?" Marik pulled the trembling Ryou closer to him, not caring that the boy was now fighting against him. Marik nuzzled into Ryou's hair, kissing the shell of his ear while his hand slid down the front of his shirt and resting on the junction of Ryou's legs. "I know you love me, Ryou, so why don't you want to show it? I'm willing to show you…"

"N-N… _No_! No, get away!"

Ryou stood up, his hand's gripped at his arms, all of him quivering as if he'd just gotten out of the rain. His eyes were wide and he continued to scream 'no' at Marik, flashes blinking behind his eyes.

"_You say that now but after a while, you'll love it. I already know that you love me, Ry, so why don't you want to show it? I'm willing to show you," _

Ryou screamed, falling to the floor in a fit of convulsions. "No, Bakura! I said no! I don't want it, please, don't! Bakura, _please_…!"

Marik's eyes were wide as he watched his love on the floor, screaming his brother's name and crying continuously, coughing now, choking. He got up and began to sit at Ryou's side but the boy lunged at him and a sound smack was placed across his cheek. Marik looked down at him, holding his fingers over the bruised spot. He said: "Ryou? Ryou, wait a minute, what's wrong?"

"No more, no more!" He cried out, his back arching up off the carpet. "_Bakura_!"

Marik shouted back, trying to reach him. "What about Bakura?"

The shaking stopped in it's violent nature soon but Ryou still continued to toss and turn on the floor, his arms still wrapped around himself. The crying diminished as well and he closed his eyes then, taking in deep breaths. He whispered into the quiet of the room: "Why did we hurt each other…?"

* * *

To be continued… 


	10. Numb To The Touch

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: I had HUGE writer's block! I just couldn't write a single word on this, it was terrible, I'm so sorry… So, please, I know it's late; don't flog me…

* * *

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Ten

It wasn't there. Bakura had searched everywhere in the city's phonebook after he had returned home but there was no Marik Ishtar on any of the pages. He had gained some control over himself after leaving the vicinity of the police station, enough control to get home safely and remind himself that he had not looked in the phonebooks. But now that he had and there was no Marik Ishtar, he was at wit's end.

What could be happening to Ryou?

Bakura found it hard to breathe then and he seated himself in the living room, in a chair next to the cream-colored sofa. There was nothing he could think of but Ryou, all he could see was that angelic face and all he could worry about was never seeing it again, never feeling him again. Too much had gone away, he thought. With Ryou gone, his whole world had gone away.

He didn't want to cry again. Not anymore. But with his baby brother gone, who would be here to hold his tears in? He could not do that on his own. That was not something he wanted to do on his own. But what could he do now? Hadn't he done everything he could? To find Ryou?

Bakura turned his head to the small table beside the chair. A small telephone was standing there, untouched for so long because no one ever came into the living room. His hand drifted over the cradle, hovering over it uncertainly.

Not everything.

His hand dropped and before he knew it, numbers were being dialed and the receiver was to his ear. Ringing once, twice, three times. This is crazy, he thought. They're never going to pick up. Never. I was crazy for even thinking they'd help. Neither of them would believe me. They don't care. They don't care about me, about Ryou, about _us_.

The ringing stopped and a recording began.

Bakura set the phone back down without leaving a message. That was a waste of time.

That was just a waste of time.

-

The sun set over the downtown though it was not as clear and beautifully blood-red as it had been the night before. If it had not been for the clock that continued to tick relentlessly in Marik Ishtar's living room, the sunset would not even have been noted. The outside was dreary with rain, the drops tapping against the windowpanes all over the house.

Besides the sound of pitter-patter on the awnings of the apartment building and the near-soundless ticking of the clock, one other sound was present in the room. Soft cries; like an injured animal in distress, tiny whimpers continued to come from Ryou Bakura as he lay on the floor of the living room. He faced away from the couch, on his side, his hands fisted into balls and he squeezed them involuntarily.

Hot tears had fallen and streaked down his face, leaving dried trails now in their wake. His gasps for breath were slowing as he no longer shouted out, losing his breath, but was and had, for the last five minutes, been rather sedate.

Marik, still crouching behind the teen kept watch over him. The last thing he'd said was: _Why did we hurt each other? _Marik really had no idea what it meant but somehow he thought that the question was not meant for him. Since then Marik was at a loss for what to do. He thought that if he were to move towards Ryou, attempt to hold or comfort him, that he might insight another fit.

However the silent breathing and deafening rain from outside was all but driving him mad. There must be something he could say to the boy without receiving a negative reaction. He lifted his hand to his cheek. The smack that he had gotten from Ryou didn't hurt. It barely caught his face.

But still.

But still…?

Marik cleared his throat and noticed that Ryou did not flinch. This was a good sign, he thought. Before he could say anything else to try and further his good fortune, he felt something beside him. He was not all that surprised to turn and see Fake Ryou sitting next to him. They both sat with their legs tucked under themselves, their hands placed firmly on their knees. Fake Ryou was fully dressed, wearing the same thing that Ryou was, a pair of Marik's jeans and a large blue shirt.

His lavender eyes flickered to the Fake One for a moment and he blushed lightly before turning back to Ryou. He did not want to speak to him and scare Ryou even more than he must've been.

Fake Ryou knew this and said stoically, 'Someone to love Ryou Bakura. That is who you want to be… right, Marik Ishtar? You want to be his someone?'

A chord in Marik's heart was tugged at. He kept his breathing steady and nodded, his gaze never wavering from the true Ryou's shivering form. Though the movement was slight, Fake Ryou noticed it and smiled. It was not the gentle, placid one he was so famous for in Marik's mind. Marik's lavender eyes shifted and saw a grim, chiseled curve of the Fake One's lips. Fake Ryou remained quiet when the whisper filled the room.

"Marik Ishtar… you know a secret that only my big brother and I shared for the longest time. For the longest time, it's been just us knowing… That secret that I told you, it was an ugly one. But… but no secret is beautiful," Ryou did not turn to face Marik but instead spoke in a hushed tone to the wall. Marik found that he had to almost strain to hear Ryou's voice. "I felt regret about you finding out… But now I don't think I _can_ regret."

Marik swallowed a small lump in his throat and tried to speak. Words came though they were hoarse. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean…" Ryou shifted on the floor. "I want to tell you another secret. Why my brother is so adamant about me not giving any more favors for grades. Why he cried when I walked away…"

Silence.

"My brother and I are lovers, Marik Ishtar. Have been since our fourteenth summer."

Ryou waited seemingly for Marik's reaction. A startled cry, a surprised gasp, something. But no, there was no cry, no gasp. Marik's side of the room was quiet. Ryou tilted his head and saw that Marik starred at him, lavender eyes vacant but his hands fidgeted in each other.

Fake Ryou was still.

Finally there was a sigh. Marik rubbed the back of his hand with the palm of the other. "I… I don't know what to say…"

"… Say you feel sorry for me."

Marik's gaze jerked away from his lap. "What?"

Ryou's deep brown eyes faded as thick lashes came over them. His hands found their way to his arms and he rubbed them vigorously, trying to warm himself from the coldness he felt in the room. He swallowed and, at last, turned his entire body around to face Marik Ishtar. He was not worried or afraid of seeing tears welling in the blonde's eyes. He was past worrying for Marik Ishtar. Far past that.

"Say you feel sorry for me," He repeated and feigned a small chuckle. "I mean… it's not as if I _chose_ to become his… h-his…"

Fake Ryou's eyes widened and so did his smile though maybe he tried to hide it. His lips cracked and twisted until it was a chiseled smirk that verged on the definition of demonic and was foreign on that gorgeous face. Marik didn't notice it, his lilac orbs shiny and glossed over with a wall of saline water. He coughed to hide it and fight back the tears though he didn't really know why he was crying.

Why was he crying?

Losing Ryou Bakura? Was that why?

Or was it…

The fight against the devilish smirk was being lost as well.

'_Ryou_,' the Fake One hummed.

A sob echoed from Ryou's throat; one kitten-like cry for help that filled the room with misery and sucked it all back in when the small echo ceased it's bouncing off the walls. He looked up, his hands fisted around his thin arms.

"Why couldn't he wait for me?" Ryou shouted, his voice as frail and cracking as his body. Marik's mouth hung open, a perfect circle as wide as his trembling eyes. "I loved him, I wanted Bakura just as badly as he wanted me! B-But I wasn't ready! I _begged_ him to stop! I _begged_! There wasn't a second through the whole thing that I didn't look into his eyes and cry and plead for him to stop…

"But he didn't… His eyes were empty, nothing but lust in them… He just wanted to screw me, Marik. And after three years, I went along with him and we called ourselves lovers… Th… There was nothing I loved about that night." Ryou lay his head on the ground, his legs tucking themselves under his body. He shivered a bit and closed his eyes.

Marik shook his head. "Ry…"

"And he tells me he loves me."

"Ryou. I… _I_ do love you. With all my heart; I want to take care of you…" His eyes flickered to Fake Ryou and then back to the _real _one. Real? "I won't let anything happen to you… please, _trust_ me, Ryou."

"… You sound like Bakura," Ryou said with a tired sigh. "You sound like my teachers. You… sound like _everybody_. I won't repeat what happened that night. Not with you, not with anyone else. I know what you want me for, Marik Ishtar, I know why you look at me with those same _empty eyes_."

"No, that's not true," he urged.

Fake Ryou nodded eagerly.

That splintered smirk ripped itself apart until it was a hungry sneer, bright with anticipation.

Ryou's head lifted from the ground and he fixed his arms to support himself as he climbed to his knees, the same position Marik was in. His sobs and sniffles dwindled to small intakes of breath. His brown eyes were red around the edges and focused. "I didn't have the strength to fight him. I couldn't do it. But I won't let myself be used again, not again. I won't lose the second half of myself to you, Marik Ishtar…"

His gaze softened. "I won't let you be Bakura."

-

The car door slammed behind the teen as he exited his car for the fourth time that day. Though the rain was pounding on the earth now, Bakura barely felt the droplets hit his skin as he strode down the sidewalk and, soon, into the school. It was dark then, and almost all the building's lights were off but he knew a few teachers worked on the weekends, grading papers and such.

After twenty-four hours had passed, he'd looked at the clock but realized then that calling the police to start a missing person's report would be useless. It would take much too long and he then thought that Ryou was not the law's responsibility. He was _Bakura's_ responsibility; Bakura's lover and little brother. There was no excuse for what he had let happen and he hoped this last resort would work.

The janitors had left the school's side door open for the teachers to come and go and that's the entrance he used to get inside. His clothes dripped with the fresh rain onto the newly buffed hallways as he made his way to the second floor.

A few lights were on in the hallways; random door-windows illuminated by the blue glares of the computers and the sounds of the continuous clicking of keys under weary fingers. Finally he arrived to room 3-2, his homeroom teacher's room. He remembered that Ryou said he and Marik Ishtar had the same homeroom period. Surely Ms. Sinclair would have some information on where Marik lived.

The door opened and he went inside, much to the surprise of the woman sitting at the desk at the front of the room, her fingers paused over the keys. She raised a thin eyebrow as he came inside, shutting the door behind himself.

"M-Mr. Bakura…" the woman was caught off-guard but quickly tried to regain her composure. "Well. I'm glad you finally showed up for school, however you seem to be confused. The building isn't open for students on the weekend and certainly not at crude times of the night."

Bakura didn't realize he'd been running down the halls and only noticed this when he lacked the breath to speak. After panting, he said, "I… I need for you to tell me Marik Ishtar's address. I know he's in your homeroom, so please, this is about my brother…"

She cocked her head to the side and blinked. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Ah… M-Marik Ishtar, he's in your homeroom! Just give me his damn address and I'll leave!"

"_Mr. Bakura_, this may be the weekend but you're _still_ talking to a teacher and I would advise you to change your tone." And with that, she turned back to the computer screen and began to type again.

Bakura's panting ceased all together and he walked from in front of the door to the other side of her desk where papers and clipboards were scattered over the wood. He began to ruffle through them much to the objection of Ms. Sinclair who had finally risen from her seat and ran over to him, shouting. He didn't pay attention and finally found what he was looking for. He held up the attendance roster for her homeroom class up to her and said with urgency, "Marik Ishtar. Look."

Before she could protest, he shoved it into her arms and, at last, she narrowed her eyes at the thing, pushing her glasses higher upon her nose. It was silent in the room for a moment as she flipped the page and then she blinked, breath caught.

"Marik Ishtar…" she spoke with quiet awe, "w-why was he on the next page? I've… been skipping him all year, I…" Ms. Sinclair fell back into her leather chair in front of the desk, staring down at the list and the one name that was on the opposite page of the rest of the class. "I have a student named Marik Ishtar…"

Bakura stopped for a second, his mind caught in it's inner workings. She didn't know?

He shook it off and turned her chair towards the computer screen. "Please, find his information, I need to contact him. My brother's with him."

She took in a small breath and, gradually, her hands replaced themselves on the keyboard.

-

Marik made that small sound that Ryou usually did. The little cry in the back of his throat. He was in way over his head, he thought. He loved Ryou Bakura, that was true but he didn't know what to do now. So many things he felt. Indescribable sadness for Ryou… and indescribable hatred towards Bakura. He had only ever said one word to Ryou's brother and that was all he could say then.

But now.

But now…?

He looked next to himself and saw that Fake Ryou had been sitting there patiently throughout the entire thing. But as he looked on at his hallucination, he noticed the odd and unfamiliar expression on his face. An eager and nasty grin that bared small, white fangs.

Marik faintly tilted his head to the left, sliding his hand across the floor. "F-Fake…"

'He hates him,' Fake Ryou's appearance did not waver, but in fact, intensified.

Ryou let out a weak cough on the other side of the room and Marik turned his head. Ryou spoke, "I… I'm going to have to deal with my brother myself. Everything he put me through up until now… I didn't know that I couldn't stand it. I didn't know how bad he was hurting me _everyday_…"

'He hates his brother,' excitement in the sweetheart's voice.

Marik Ishtar's head began to dizzy as Ryou started to cry again. He looked to his left and tears filtered through Fake Ryou's eyes as well but that retched smirk still remained. The Fake One crawled over the rug to Ryou's side and lent his head tenderly on the crying boy's hip. Ryou continued to sob into his hands.

Marik shook his head. "W-What…"

Fake Ryou laughed mirthlessly, tangling one of his fingers around a lock of silver hair. 'Marik Ishtar… Ryou Bakura is in need of a someone…'

Ryou sobbed. "Why won't he quit…"

* * *

To be continued… 


	11. While Everybody's Loving Him

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh characters.

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

* * *

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Eleven

_More pictures were put into their slots. Photo after photo, terrible moment after a beautiful kiss, all drowned in malcontent and the disrepair of a young twin's love for his brother. Slot after slot, they filled in themselves and it went faster and the tears came faster but there were no more tears. All had been depleted on the couch with the picture book wide open._

_Tired, dry gasps. Red eyes that felt like imploding on themselves. Limp, silver hair that fell over a porcelain face. _

_As his head rested despairingly on a cushion on the gray couch in the center of the room, all of it just as foggy and bleak as the day he opened his eyes and found the picture book sitting next to him, he held the last picture languidly in his hand. His brown eyes starred up into the ceiling and his lips moved to a soundless tune. The picture tipped in his hand._

_He didn't feel like sliding it into the picture book. He didn't feel like remembering it. His body and mind were numb with the faint throbbing at the edge of his psyche. Last slot… His head turned to it and the soundless tune was revealed to be a sentence._

_Inside the photograph, he was lying in a blood and sweat soaked bed as the morning brightness filtered into the room through parted curtains. The young him opened his eyes and they blinked harshly under the light, already they were used to the darkness and misery of the night._

_He sat up and yelped, the pain shooting up his spine and laying him back down. The door opened and his brother came into the room, a pair of jeans unzipped and a blue button-up shirt hanging loosely on his torso. Bakura smiled at the awakened form of his brother. He came over and kneeled down by the bed so they were eye-to-eye._

"_Good morning, Ryou," he looked into Ryou's eyes that were stoic and dry, "How do you feel?"_

_The picture book rocked and trembled with screams._

_("No more, no more,")_

_When he didn't answer, there was a long pause in the room and Bakura broke it by taking the boy's face in his hands and cupping his pale cheeks. He put his forehead next to Ryou's and buried his face in white, snowy hair. "I love you," he said. _

_("And he tells me he loves me.")_

_More silence and Bakura's voice cracked as he murmured, "Don't you love me, Ryou? Don't you?"_

"… _Yes, big brother."_

_The picture dropped out of his hand and he fell off the couch, screaming out until his voice was hoarse. There was nothing else he could do. Nothing. Nothing._

_The ghost of him turned in the mirror, holding the shadow's hand._

"_IT'S OKAY BECAUSE I LOVE HIM."_

_He fell back and screamed._

_A dream of love's perfection watched in despair._

_("Why won't he quit…")_

_And he went away._

-

Marik Ishtar watched helplessly as Ryou's eyes were blank, just two deep pools of chocolate hiding a mind that was far away for the moment. Ryou had been that way for a few moments now, his lips moving in a rhythmic pattern, almost as if he were singing to himself. But Marik had other concerns. As he watched the boy, he couldn't help but also watch Fake Ryou who lay next to Ryou, running his hand soothingly down Ryou's beautiful hair.

Though Marik was almost sure that Ryou could not feel it, he wondered if Ryou was aware that someone was trying to comfort him. Ryou's eyes were streamed with tears as were Fake Ryou's but he didn't seem upset. That grin, those movements… he seemed…

"Are you okay?" Marik asked in a whisper, not yet wanting to break Ryou Bakura from his trance. He directed the question to his pretty hallucination who didn't look away from stroking Ryou.

'I'm fine,' his smirk didn't waver, 'but are _you _okay, Marik Ishtar? How do you feel now that you know that Ryou Bakura is not the innocent little doll you made him out to be? Not only does he pleasure his teachers but he was raped by his brother. He is not so pure, is he? He is not so wonderful, is he? Or…' he stopped his petting and turned his head, tears streaming from them and that smile grave, 'is that what gives him his beauty? A tragic, disgusting loveliness that triggers your cravings?'

Marik's lips quivered.

'Do you _love_ him?'

"Yes," he shouted, his hand flying up to his mouth to cover his sudden yelp. He looked at the still stoic Ryou and shook his head incredulously. "Bakura is the disgusting one; he's the one who hurt Ryou!"

Fake Ryou put his hand around Ryou's arm and tightened his hold. 'Ryou hates him so much, Marik. But he will never have the strength to walk away from his brother. And Bakura will never let him go. After all, why should he? Ryou _belongs_ to him.'

"That's not true!" Marik's breath came faster.

'He will come for Ryou to take him back home, Marik. Ryou cannot be held here for all eternity and Bakura will rescue him. You know this.' His voice was changing. How was it changing? From sweet to deadly and now to a listless whisper. The Fake One's eyes were narrowed on Marik's figure.

There was a pause.

Fake Ryou shifted himself, resting his head on the small of Ryou's back. 'And it will go back to how it was. Bakura will continue to take Ryou against his unvoiced will and you… will be all alone, Marik.'

"Please, stop…" Marik shook his head again and huddled up to the couch in a childish manner, his legs drawn up to his chest and one hand running feverishly through his thick blonde hair. His large, lavender eyes were now wet and he whimpered to himself. Fake Ryou got up from his spot by Ryou and sat down near Marik, placing a hand on his shivering shoulder.

'You don't like to be alone. It's _scary_ to be alone… without Ryou.'

Marik gasped and looked up. Through bleary vision he could see Ryou on the floor, holding himself. It didn't make sense that they should each comfort themselves. They could comfort each other, be together inside the walls of loneliness that threatened to close in on them. That's what Marik wanted. To be lonely with sweet Ryou Bakura.

Fake Ryou leant down. 'Are you going to let him go?'

"… No."

-

The car stopped once again and he looked up at the building that loomed over him. Bakura seldom visited the downtown area and any other day he might've been uneasy about leaving such an expensive car in this part of town where anyone could easily thieve it. But today was not any other day and he jumped out of the car, leaving the keys inside. There was nothing that was going to stop him; Ryou _had_ to be here.

He opened the front door and was greeted with a hallway, an elevator on the left side of that and then another door that read: Superintendent's Office. Without hesitation, he went to the door and pushed it open, surprised to see Ms. Sinclair. Or someone who looked like Ms. Sinclair. In a second, after the woman looked up, he realized that it was not her; this woman was much younger.

"Can I help you?" she asked, tilting her head. Bakura despised dealing with administrators but tried to calm himself in order to ask a question.

"Which floor does Marik Ishtar live on?" his voice was rushed but he didn't care, didn't care. Nothing but Ryou mattered.

She blinked, noting his attitude and looked down into a notebook that was set open on the desk. She flipped through it a few pages and her lips moved, it seemed that she was saying, "Marik Ishtar…" A second passed and she pointed to a spot in the notebook. "Marik Ishtar, room 129 on the fifth floor." She said with a satisfactory sigh. "Are you a friend of his…?"

Her question tapered off as she looked up only in time to see Bakura's form leaving the small office and heading for the elevator. Once inside, he pressed the right button and waited impatiently as the elevator creaked and groaned when it reached new floors. His heart was beating faster as the realization that he was going to see his brother again dawned on him.

The doors to the elevator finally opened and he went rushing out, looking from side to side to see if any door had the numbers '129' on the front. After going down two hallways, he found it. Bakura stopped, his head turned to the left and he walked that way, his hand automatically knocking.

There was no response and, after a second, he knocked again but with more force. Still, nothing. Bakura narrowed his eyes.

-

Marik's eyes widened at the banging on the door. He stared at it and, already, knew who it was, knew the voice even from the one word he'd heard before from him. Ryou knew who it was too, he'd come out of his trance at the first knock and began to panic. Marik had a hard time holding himself back from embracing Ryou but he didn't resist the urge of telling him, "It's alright."

Ryou shook his head, his face covered by his hands. "I-I don't know what to tell him… I can't…" he took in another breath to sustain his words, "I don't think I can be strong enough…"

A long pause and only the continued pounding of the door sounded throughout the apartment. Yelling and shouting followed; Marik heard his name being called by Ryou's brother over and over again accompanied by a slew of curses. Ryou looked at the door broken-heartedly and Marik fisted the hem of his shirt.

"Then I'll be strong enough for you," his gaze from the door didn't waver. Ryou looked at him and Fake Ryou's chest was moving up and down.

The door flew open. Bakura finally managed to kick it open by aiming at the rotting third hinge and it broke off, letting him open the door from the opposite side of the handle. He stepped inside the apartment and looked straight at Ryou who was on the floor, wearing large clothes and sobbing into his hands hard now. An intense heat spread throughout his body as his gaze shifted to Marik who sat on the couch, lazy lavender eyes focused on him.

Bakura's breath came faster and he balled his fists, trying to gulp down what he felt rising up from his stomach. This was where Ryou was for the past day and a half. In here with Marik Ishtar, wearing what were obviously his clothes and crying. Bakura felt like vomiting and punching Marik and holding Ryou all at the same time. His eyes flickered to the blonde when said tanned-skin teen stood from the couch.

Bakura ignored him and went over to where Ryou sat and gently took hold of the boy's arms and pulled them away from his face. Ryou struggled to keep them up.

"Ryou… Hey, come on, don't," He forced his wrists down and tried to look into his eyes. "You okay? Ryou?"

He shook his head and choked out another sob, trying to wrench himself away. "N… No, Bakura…"

"What?"

"Get away from him," Marik took a step forward , his once watery eyes now dry and almost as red as both Ryou's and Bakura's. Bakura looked up at him, a fire in his eyes and he let go of Ryou and stood again. Marik, now with Bakura's full attention, ran with it. "You don't disserve to even look at him! You've never cared for Ryou, all you do is hurt him so I'll never let him go anywhere with you!"

Bakura's head was throbbing. "What the hell are you talking about? You _kidnapped_, my little brother and you're telling me that I don't _care_ about him? When I get him out of here, I'm coming back to kick your ass; there's no way you're getting away with this, you sick freak!"

Marik narrowed his eyes into slits and his chest moved up and down, up and down; faster, faster as Bakura turned around and then roughly grabbed his brother by the wrists, forcing the boy onto his feet and began to head for the door. Ryou resisted and whined, "Bakura, listen to me!"

"We don't have time, Ry—"

He finally broke away from his brother's grip and stumbled backwards but catching himself before he fell to the carpet. Bakura stopped and turned around, a quizzical and worried expression on his face. The older of the two twins gave a ragged sigh and his arms dropped down to his waist. His eyes began to water and though he unconsciously fought to keep the tears at bay, he couldn't help but wonder sadly: Does Ryou want to stay… with Marik Ishtar?

It was as if Ryou read his older brother's mind. He raised his large, doe-eyes to Bakura. "It… it wasn't my idea to come here… I didn't want to come to this lonely place…" his eyes flickered to Marik and then back towards his brother, "This is your fault. What you did to me, that's what brought me here, in the end, _that's_ why this has happened! I didn't want to come here!"

Bakura shook his head and reached his hand out to the boy. "Ryou, please…"

"That's what I said to you on that night, Bakura! Does it hurt, Bakura? To beg for what you want and not get it from the person who means the most to you? Does it hurt?" He was screeching now, fists balled, shoulders shaking.

"Oh, God, Ryou. Please don't."

"Why should I stop for you?" he gasped, "You… it was against my will, Bakura!"

Marik watched as Ryou struggled for breath and held himself in his own arms. Bakura walked over to Ryou and took him by the arms, holding him and even though Ryou fought against his embrace, he couldn't get out of it. Ryou screamed again and tears gushed from his eyes. Marik couldn't stand the helpless wails that came from Ryou.

He shook his head slowly.

Fake Ryou looked up from where he sat on the couch. His brown, glowing eyes focused on the grip Bakura had on Ryou. He spoke and his stare didn't falter. 'Bakura's taking him back now, Marik, just like I said. And once they get home, you know what will happen. Ryou Bakura is going to be hurt unless you do something. Will you not help him… Marik?'

He lifted his arm to wipe away the remaining tears from his face and nodded.

Bakura tried to shout over Ryou's screams. "Ryou, please stop, calm down!"

"Why, Bakura! _Why_…" He dropped to the ground, droplets of saline falling onto and staining the carpet. Bakura's eyes were wide and shivering as he looked down on his brother and not another thought came to him before something hard came fast at his temple and a second later, when he was dropping onto his knees, he realized that Marik Ishtar had punched him with all his might.

He fell back, his hands and arms barely supporting him. Ryou gasped and looked up at a Marik he did not recognize. His eyes were narrowed into slits and concentrated on Bakura. As Marik dropped down on top of his brother, Ryou weakly called out, "Bakura…? M-Marik…"

The Fake One closed his eyes, leaning his head back into the couch cushion.

Marik's hands were soon around Bakura's slender, pale neck, grasping and squeezing. Bakura was on his back in a matter of seconds with the tanned teenager hovering over him, straddling his hips. Ryou's eyes widened just a little and he crawled over on all fours, eyes darting from Marik's stoic eyes to Bakura who gasped for air and tried to get Marik off of him, however Marik was a little larger than his brother.

Bakura's eyes were barely open and tears welled in the corners as well as saliva that trickled down his chin from the corners of his mouth. He coughed and gasped for breath but found none. His blood-shot, bulging eyes turned to Ryou.

"R-Ry… Please, Ry—Gah!"

Marik tightened his grip.

"I-I'm sorry, Ryou," he gagged, "a-all I ever wanted was your love… I only ever wanted _you_, ah… N…"

He was clenching his hands as hard as he could.

"_No_," Bakura shook his head violently.

"No… _Marik_!"

Fake Ryou opened his eyes.

The tears in Ryou's eyes shook themselves lose as he lunged forward, grabbing onto the fists Marik made around his brother's neck. He cried out, trying to twist the hands off, "Marik! Stop, don't do this! You're wrong, Marik, you can't do this! B-Bakura tried to save me… He tried so hard to make sure I was safe! Please don't; please stop!" He pulled harder. "Oh, God, don't do it!"

Marik was ready to tighten his grasp one last time but the voice that was almost Ryou's was heard nearby and his gaze jerked away to Fake Ryou who stared at him, eyes filled with tears.

'Marik…' he truly smiled for the first time in a while, 'Marik, it's okay. That's enough. That's enough now… that's enough… Goodbye, Marik Ishtar.'

A flash of silver.

The grip on Bakura's neck loosened and finally fell away and sweet air rushed into Bakura's lungs. Marik watched the vacant spot and reached his hand out to feel Fake Ryou's familiar touch. But there was none.

The room began to spin and the last thing Marik Ishtar remembered was the sound of a sweet laugh.

-

Unnatural brightness was what awakened him. He opened his eyes, fluttering at first, to the brilliance and slowly but surely sat up to take a look at where he was. A white curtain surrounded him on three sides and as he looked down he realized he was in a white bed, the sheets and pillowcase crisp and clean. He tried to think of the last thing that had happened but he couldn't remember and didn't feel like straining himself to try.

A sound he heard was from the side of the bed which was not surrounded by a curtain but with a wall and a door that was open to a hallway. People passed by, some wheeling large gurneys and others carrying clipboards and scrutinizing them. He starred out of the door for a moment and wondered if he should try to find out where he was.

Finally, someone came into the room from that busy hallway. He wore a long white coat and green uniform clothes underneath with a clipboard held at his hip. He smiled and said cheerfully, "Well, you're finally up. How are you feeling, Marik?"

He looked around, then back at the seemingly kind man and tilted his head. "Who is… Marik?"

-

Outside the hospital, two boys were standing on the sidewalk, under a streetlight that blinked from time to time. The lighting glowed on their pale skin. Bakura had bandages wrapped around his neck and a few around his forehead but he had no concussion from where he was struck in the temple. Ryou stood a few feet behind his brother with one bandage on his cheek and another on the back of his head even though the wound had almost completely healed.

A cell phone was up to Bakura's ear and he dialed seven numbers. He was quivering involuntarily and holding onto his shirt with his fist. It rang four times before a click was heard and his eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat.

"M… Mom? Mom? Yeah… N-No, I'm okay… No, nothing's wrong. Nothing's the matter. Nothing's wrong…" he sobbed into the phone while saying over and over again that nothing was the matter and, behind him, Ryou broke down and cried too.

-

Monday, first day of December, and students filed into the building. Bakura and Ryou walked into the classroom holding hands and everyone noticed but no one dared to question it. Ms. Sinclair gave the morning announcements first and during them, notes were flicked onto Ryou's desk. He ignored them and Bakura crumbled them up, keeping his gaze focused on Ryou.

The older of the two took out a sheet of paper and wrote something down, soon after placing it on his brother's desk. Ryou took it and unfolded the paper, reading the note and writing back. This continued on through all of the announcements and when Ms. Sinclair turned back to her desk, this was what had been written:

_We still haven't talked about it._

_Maybe we don't need to._

_Do you hate me, Ryou?_

_No._

_Could you love me? Could we put this all behind us?_

_I don't know if I can ever put Marik Ishtar behind me._

_I understand._

Ms. Sinclair told all of them to quiet down so she could call roll.

Melanie Gadwall.

Tad Harrington.

Marik Ishtar.

Everybody looked around when she called that name and they determined that, whoever that was, he wasn't in class today. Ryou pushed back his seat and stood up, his eyes focused on the teacher. They quickly flickered to the seat that once occupied a lonely, nameless teenager.

Ms. Sinclair tilted her head at Ryou. "What… what's wrong, Mr. Bakura?"

His eyes widened and his chest went up and down, up and down. His breathing came faster and faster, tears welled in his eyes and overflowed, dropping to the desk until a small, animal-like cry emitted from his throat, filling the classroom.

* * *

— **OWARI —**

* * *

Her Sweetness: And we've come to another end. Hope everyone liked it and please leave a review on your way out. Otherwise, I'll think no one was entertained and I'll go into a deep depression.

… That happens sometimes.

Goodbye and Goodluck!


End file.
